


Growth

by blossomatris



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Drunk Driving, Eating Disorders, Eventual Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blossomatris/pseuds/blossomatris
Summary: (Next Update: April 18, 2018)If they could get out of this god awful sea side town, they would. But since they can't, they might as well make the best of it - no matter the consequences.





	1. Between the Couch Cushions

**Author's Note:**

> \- Kageyama Tobio  
> \- Implied Drug Use  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- 2161 Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #1... High Enough by K. Flay

**__** **Collection 1**

 

His mom was passed out drunk again, her body half on the couch and half on the floor. There were a few bottles of beer around her and a snubbed out cigarette in the ashtray. The entire living room smelled of putrid sweat and Kageyama could feel it slither across his tongue and down his throat, making him gag slightly.

                He looked out the dirty, smoke covered window, lazily scanning the street outside. He could see the dog across from them barking aggressively, it’s muzzle squished between the gate, it’s lips twisted up in a snarl as a mother with a stroller walked by.

                Kageyama rubbed his chest. It was hard to breathe. A window needed to be opened or something. He picked up the empty bottles from the floor and carried them to the trash. After dumping them, he pushed open the kitchen window, grunting with effort.

                “Mom, I’m going to go out for a bit,” Kageyama called, knowing his mother wouldn’t hear him. “Hinata’s waiting for me. My phone’ll be on. Call if you need anything, yeah?”

                His mom didn’t move. Kageyama cocked his head, zeroing in on her chest and looking for the rise and fall of breathing.

                _Mom, going out. Will be back before eleven. Phone is on. Call if you need anything._

                           -          _Love, Tobi_

                Kageyama propped the note up against the ashtray, pressed a kiss to his mom’s forehead, and then quietly slipped out of the house.

                The Doberman across the street rattled the gate as it roared its obscenities at Kageyama. He gave the dog a paper thin smile and walked away from his hellish neighbourhood.

* * *

“Kageyama~! I thought I’d been stood up!” Hinata cried, his fiery hair snapping around in the wind. He was standing on a thick, cement siding—just above the sea water. Yamaguchi was beside him, sitting down with his back to the open ocean.

                Kageyama gave Yamaguchi’s dangling foot a light kick in greeting before looking up at Hinata. “I might have considered it.”

                Hinata jumped down, using Kageyama’s shoulders as support, saying, “So rude! I thought our relationship was going really well. Don’t you think so Yama?” Hinata propped up on his toes and pressed a kiss to Kageyama’s cheek, clinging to his neck. “Oh, please, don’t leave me, Tobio, my love! You give meaning to my life! I would _die_ without you!”

                “Get the fuck off, Shouyou,” Kageyama grumbled. He tugged at Hinata’s unrelenting arms. “I thought we were supposed to be getting Yamaguchi to Tsukishima’s. He’s probably losing his shit. And he’s going to blame it on _me._ ”

                “You guys really didn’t need to—ˮ

                Hinata bend backwards, nearly completely in half, hanging from Kageyama’s shoulders and looked at their pale, acne and freckle dotted friend. “Of course we did! You’re our friend, Yama. We don’t want anything to happen to you. And it was upon Tsukishima’s request! I feel _honoured_ to be needed by that dick-slit.”

                Yamaguchi cringed and got to his feet, brushing the back of his pants off of dust and dirt. “I… Thanks, you guys,” he said, looking down at his feet.

               “No problem,” Kageyama said, nonchalantly tearing Hinata off and shoving him away. He ignored the ginger’s complaints and started down the walkway. It was downhill for a way, if slightly, which was definitely better than the uphill walk Kageyama had had to trek through on the way there.

               As they walked, Kageyama behind Yama and Hinata, the wind died down as it got stuck behind the shops and other buildings. Hinata’s hair remained in disarray. A one point, Kageyama witnessed a toddler stumble over her own feet and crash upwards on the hill. Yamaguchi’s bag was unzipped slightly, and Kageyama fixed it. It was a little bit cold. It smelled like fish and the ocean. The alleyways between the buildings were dark and intimidating.

              “Oi! Hinata!” Kageyama snapped, face darkening as Hinata dodged into a building, dragging Yamaguchi behind him. Kageyama pushed the door open himself, listening to a little bell above him tinkle faintly. Hinata was already pressed up against the glass display case at the front of the small bakery.

             “We don’t have time or money for snacks right now, dumbass,” Kageyama hissed. He jabbed a finger between Hinata’s shoulder blades. Yamaguchi looked nervous.

              Hinata pouted. “It smells so good though! And a hot chocolate or hot tea would be so nice right now! It’s cold out there. Not nice at all.”

              Kageyama glared and curled his hand around Hinata’s bicep, dragging him back out to the street, Yamaguchi trailing after them.

              “Yamaguchi just wants to get to Tsukishima’s, okay?” Hinata glanced at the freckled brunette and then back at Kageyama’s stormy face. “Your antics aren’t appreciated right now.”

              Hinata glared, hurt by Kageyama’s words, but quieted down and kept a straight line to Tsukishima’s for the rest of the walk. The sketchy, dark elevator leading up to Tsukishima’s apartment was creaky and smelled of sex. Kageyama made sure not to touch anything, snapping at Hinata to do the same.

               Tsukishima’s apartment building wasn’t the nicest. It wasn’t in the nicest of neighbourhoods. It wasn’t really the nicest to look at. It didn’t have the nicest apartments. But it was what the cocky blond could afford.

               The stained carpet down the gross yellow hallway was covered in dried dirt. There was a dent in one wall.

              “Tsukki?” Yamaguchi called, pushing up apartment 72’s door. “It’s me. And Kageyama and Hinata. We’re coming in, okay?”

              “Yeah, okay, whatever,” Tsukishima’s droll voice responded from just around the corner. “Take your shoes off.”

               Kageyama toed off his runners, kicking them against the wall and out of the way. Yamaguchi slid off his cargo boots and neatly placed them on the mat in the corner, doing the same with Hinata’s and Kageyama’s shoes.

               “Smells like shit in here.” Kageyama commented, nose wrinkling as he wandered into the tiny kitchen where Tsukishima was at the stove, making an omelette. Hinata peered around the tall blond.

               “Ooh, can you make me one?”

                Tsukishima barely acknowledged Hinata. Instead, he brushed by the two and slid the omelette onto a plate, putting it on the table with a glass of milk. He pulled the chair out and said to Yamaguchi, “Eat. I’ll run a bath.”

                “Thanks, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said faintly, twisting his fingers and delicately seating himself in front of the hot plate of food. Hinata sat down in front of him, eyes sparkling as he watched him eat the egg slowly. Kageyama rolled his eyes, disappearing into the stuffed living room and collapsing on the sofa.

                When Tsukishima came from the hall, the sound of the bath filling with water trailing after him, he looked at Kageyama and quietly said, “Thanks. For bringing him here.”

                “We’re doing it for him, not you,” Kageyama responded bitterly.

                “I said thank you,” Tsukishima firmly reinstated.

                Kageyama sighed. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

               Tsukishima left, going back to the kitchen. He said something to Hinata, resulting in the orange haired boy loudly complaining and screeching his chair back. Kageyama stared at the water stained roof tiles above him. His hand absently ran between the couch cushions, but Tsukishima was too much of a neat freak to have anything—let alone of value—between them.

               If he was lucky at home, he could find a joint or two between the cushions, or a bottle of pills. Ever since he was little, Kageyama was shifting through couches for change and knick-knacks. Now all he wanted was some drugs.

               There was shouting coming from the room above, and there were angry steps thudding on the floor. Kageyama hated Tsukishima’s apartment building almost as much as he hated Tsukishima. It was a tough call. He couldn’t imagine that Tsukishima’s apartment was more of a safe place to Yamaguchi than his own home was.

                Kageyama liked his home. It was just his mom and him—it had always been that way. Sure, his mom smoked too much and drank too much and pretended like she didn’t take a million illegal, non-prescribed drugs, but his mom and him had a nice relationship. She never really rose her voice, and she never ever rose a hand to him. She did her best to get up every morning to make breakfast for him before he went to school. They exchanged honest ‘I love you’s regularly.

                Kageyama didn’t know much of Yamaguchi’s home life, but Tsukishima did and it was only when Yamaguchi’s home life came up did Kageyama see actual concern and worry cross Tsukishima Kei’s face. Whatever the situation was, it was obviously bad enough for Tsukishima to feel some inkling of emotion.

                “Tsukki doesn’t want us here,” Hinata said, flopping down on the couch beside Kageyama. “Can we go? We should go find Kenma or something. Or anyone other than Tsukishima. We should go visit Akaashi and Suga at work. I’m really bored.”

                “Where’s Noya?”

                “With Asahi,” Hinata mused. “They went out to the shops. On a little date. Noya said I wasn’t invited.”

                “What about Natsu? Where’s she right now?”

                “I took her to a friend’s when I left. Noya said he’d pick her up when he heads back.”

                Kageyama side eyed his friend and then heaved a sigh. “I guess we can go visit Akaashi and Suga. Kei, we’re leaving!”

                Tsukishima gave Kageyama sweltering glare as the two put their shoes back on. They said goodbye—Kageyama only acknowledging Yamaguchi—before going back down the gross hall, disappearing back down in the rickety elevator, and then stepping foot onto the blustering sidewalk again.

                They hopped on a bus, riding it for nearly twenty minutes before hopping off and walking the final block to the restaurant. The bell above the door jingled as they entered and the girl at the cash register glanced up. She didn’t give them a greeting.

                Hinata slid into a chair at the counter and asked her, “Sugawara or Akaashi working today?”

                “And what if they are?” she grumbled, jotting something down on a notepad.

                “C’mon, Saeko,” Hinata whined, stretching his arms out in front of him and banging his head on the counter. “You guys aren’t very busy.”

                The busty blond bit at a gel nail. “Akaashi’s in the kitchen. Let me know if you find Suga, his break ended ten minutes ago, and I haven’t seen him back yet.”

                Kageyama followed Hinata around the back of the counter and into the warm kitchen. Two other employees gave them unhappy looks, but didn’t say anything as they disappeared around to the back.

                “Hey,” Kageyama said above the clatter and noise.

                Akaashi glanced over his shoulder, hands plunged in water.

                “Why are you here?” he asked. “I’m working.”

                Hinata hopped up onto a stainless-steel counter, pushing aside a pile of dirty dishes. He picked a fry off a plate, and Kageyama grimaced, giving him a disgusted look.

                “Saeko’s looking for Suga,” Kageyama informed Akaashi. “Has he been around?”

                “Fuck,” Akaashi hissed. “He’s in the closet. Like, literally. He took a nap. I was supposed to wake him up. Over there, Kageyama, can you get him?”

                Kageyama tugged open the closet door in the corner, light spilling in. On the floor, a jacket beneath his head, was Suga. His apron was draped over him like a blanket. Kageyama flicked the dim light on and nudged the older boy with his foot.

                “Sugawara, your break is over,” he said.

                Instantly, Suga shot up into a sitting position. His eyes were wide and his hair was mushed. He scrambled to his feet and Kageyama stepped back.

                “Oh, my god! Oh, my god, oh, my god, how long was I sleeping? Oh, my _god_ ,” Suga glowered, slipping his apron on and stumbling out of the closet. “Akaashi, you never woke me up!”

                “I forgot,” Akaashi apologized, wincing. “You’re only ten minutes over.”

                Suga let out a long breath, smoothing his hands down his front. Kageyama noted that his hands were trembling, and his mouth was set in a thin line. He didn’t mention how pale Suga looked, and how exhausted he seemed.

                He swept out of the kitchen and Kageyama went back to Hinata and Akaashi.

                “He looks terrible,” Hinata commented. “He should fucking sleep for once. Like, just tell his parents to piss off and then sleep.”

                Kageyama picked up a towel and started drying the dishes that Akaashi had washed. The door pushed open again and Suga returned. His face was flushed. He returned to the closet he was in and pulled out the cleaning cart.

                “Mio just cleaned the washrooms—“

                “I’ll do it again,” Suga responded. His voice was thin. “They get dirty fast. I’ll clean them again.”

                Akaashi didn’t say anything else. He returned his focus to the gross, brown water. Kageyama shared a look with Hinata, but it stayed at that. Suga would bounce back. He always did, and Kageyama knew this time would be no different.


	2. Brain Stew and Organ Casserole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #1... High Enough by K. Flay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Kozume Kenma  
> \- Homophobia/Homophobic Language  
> \- Implied Self Harm  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- 1687 Words

**Collection 1**

 

“Why’re you still in bed?” Hana sneered, her face twisted in disgust as she stepped into the room. “You _know_ mom’s not going to believe your bitchy complaints.”

                Kenma blinked. He was cold.

                “I’m tired,” he answered quietly.

                Hana shook her head, scoffing. “Yeah, so am I. You kept me up all night with your fucking… _Anxiety._ Go to your boyfriend’s house or something. You’re too old to still be living at home, anyways. You’re stressing mom out. And I’m having friends over, so I don’t want you around.”

                “Kuroo’s not my boyfriend,” Kenma defended, eyebrows pinching. “We’re just _friends_.”

                “Faggot,” Hana hissed under her breath, slamming the closet door closed and leaving their shared bedroom. Kenma pulled the blankets over his head and tried to steady his breathing, holding back tears.

                Why _was_ he still at home? He hated his house. He hated his family. He felt like he was constantly suffocating. But he was too scared to leave. This was all he’d ever known and he was too _scared_ to go out on his own. His mom was always guiding him. His dad was always there for him. Kenma didn’t really want to leave. He didn’t want to go into the unknown.

                But he was out of high school. He was supposed to be doing things with his life. He wasn’t supposed to be at home still. He should be enrolled in college or university.

                Thinking about it twisted Kenma’s intestines into knots painfully and mucked around his stomach.

                “Kenma! Come down here!” his mom’s voice called.

                Kenma shivered, ice piercing through his skull.

                He slid out of bed and made his way down the hall to the stairs. He looked over the wooden banister at his mom in the kitchen. She looked up at him and said, “Your sister’s having friends over. Stay out of her room.”

                “Our room,” Kenma quietly corrected.

                “Come down here and get your chores done,” his mom said, her voice icing over. “I should be making you pay rent for living here still. The least you could do is pull your weight, for Christ’s sake.”

                Kenma hated his home.

                He slowly climbed down the stairs, anxiety slamming into his body in waves as he got closer to his mother. One wrong step and he could send her spiralling into fury. A rope was slithering across the floor, climbing his body, and tightening around his neck. He hated the fear he got around her. He wanted it to go away, to let him breathe freely and to not feel caged. One day she was going to skin him alive, hang his flesh out and then put his innards in the oven. Make a chandelier from his bones.

                A gnarled hand shot out and grasped his face, making him jump.

                His mom pulled his face down roughly and kissed his forehead.

                “There’s a list of chores on the table for you,” she said.

                Kenma stood frozen until she disappeared. If he did the chores without a word, he would be safe. He would be okay. He would go to Kuroo’s until his dad returned from work, then he could return home. His dad understood him. He dad made sure he always had pills. His dad kept his mom happy.

                Kenma pulled out his phone.

                **_Kenma_** _can I come over?_

He looked at the list of chores. There were too many in comparison to what his sister had to do.

                **_Kuroo_** _yeah everything ok?_

_**Kenma** anxious. _

Kuroo knew what Kenma’s mom was like. Kuroo was always there when his dad was not.

                **_Kuroo_** _ok but warning: bo’s here_

_**Kenma** idc just want to leave_

Thinking about his anxiety seemed to be making it worse. The list of chores in front of his eyes was blurring from the tears that were pooling. He just had to quickly do the chores and then he could leave. He could go to Kuroo’s.

* * *

                Kenma could hear the shouting before he’d even reached the door. The long balcony, four floors above ground level, was covered in dead leaves. There was a broken deck chair in front of one door, five beer bottles in front of another door, three apartments down.

                Kenma knocked on the door of Kuroo’s apartment. The wily shouting from inside stopped instantly.

                “Hey, kitten, come on in,” Kuroo said, sweeping the door open. “We’re just playing some games. Wanna join?”

                Kenma followed his childhood friend into the messy living room. Bokuto was in a bean-bag chair, munching on some popcorn. He rose a hand in greeting. Kenma felt sick and cold. No, he didn’t want to play games. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to run away and never be found.

                “Everything okay?” Kuroo asked. He flopped down on a bean-bag, pulling Kenma down with him and hugging him to his chest. Kuroo was warm. He was always warm. He was safe.

                “Not really,” Kenma responded quietly, curling himself up.

                Bokuto stayed quiet, patiently munching away.

                “Do you want to talk about it?”

                Kenma shook his head. “Just want to forget it.”

                “Fair enough. Press play, Bo,” Kuroo said. Bokuto pressed the play button and the two continued with what they were playing. Kenma tried to focus on the game, but his mind was somewhere else. It was in his stomach. He felt _wrong_. He felt like he needed to go to the doctor’s. Something inside of him wasn’t _right._ Maybe his heart was on the wrong side, or he was missing an organ.

                Kenma’s chest ached. He didn’t belong anywhere. He longed to feel wanted somewhere. He wanted to have a place that made him feel safe, where he didn’t have to worry. Kenma wanted a home.

                Behind him, Kuroo tightened his grip around his waist and rested his chin on Kenma’s head. Kenma’s breath stuttered and he sniffed, wiping the tears in his eyes. The two bigger males didn’t pause their game, they didn’t say anything, but Kenma knew they were aware of his crying. Kuroo’s body practically wrapped around him protectively, and Bokuto kept his voice down.

                Kenma knew he was safe here, but this wasn’t his home. _This wasn’t his._

                “You want to stay over?” Kuroo asked.

                Kenma struggled to get out of the bean-bag and out from Kuroo’s lap. He brushed his hair and then pressed his hands over his ears. “I need to go to the washroom,” he whispered, avoiding Kuroo’s stare. He made his way around the dividing wall and entered the first door on the left, locking himself in.

                He swallowed, turning on the tap and sticking his hands under the scalding stream. He was so fucking _cold_. He wanted to light himself on fire, drink boiling water, do something to warm his bones.

                His hands turned bright red from the steaming water. Kenma was going to stay over, he usually did. He didn’t feel like a freak with Kuroo. He could sleep here. He didn’t have to worry about his middle of the night anxiety. Bokuto always slept like a rock in the other room, and Kuroo was always patient. He liked snuggling up against Kuroo’s side and resting his head on his chest.

                But, Kenma wasn’t _gay_. Neither was Kuroo.

                They were just good friends. It was a platonic relationship.

                Kenma tore the towel off the hook, bunched it up, and screamed into it, folding in on himself and collapsing to the floor. His screams melded into sobs and then he slowly laid down on the floor, tears leaking from his eyes. He could still hear the video game, but he knew that they’d heard him.

                Kenma sat up, crawling forward, and pulling open the cupboard beneath the sink. Shampoo, conditioner, bath bombs, bubble bath, a bulk set of about 6 boxes of toothpaste, and toilet paper. No razors.

                He slammed the cupboard shut and reached beneath his shirt, feeling the old scars lining his stomach. He wasn’t addicted to cutting, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to impulsively slice his skin when he got like this. All he wanted was to get rid of the moulding organs inside of him.

                Kenma closed his eyes, wet eyelashes sticking to his skin, and laid back down on the floor. He was rotting from the inside out.

* * *

                Bokuto went to bed at the ripe time of nine thirty, quieting the apartment considerably. Around ten thirty, Kenma slid on one of Kuroo’s sweaters and sweatpants, and then climbed into his bed. Kuroo himself was at his desk, two textbooks open and paper scattered around him. He tapped on the keyboard while Kenma played on his PSP, buried beneath the blankets.

                “’ve you got your pills?” Kuroo asked, bouncing a leg.

                “Yes,” Kenma whispered. “Kuro, do you… do you find it annoying? Me, I mean, always coming here… I’m always in your hair. And Bokuto’s.”

                Kuroo rolled his head to the side and looked at Kenma, his face illuminated by the light of his game. “I want you to take a stab at what you think I might say.”

                Kenma sighed and put his game down, fiddling with the blanket and avoiding Kuroo’s look.

                “I know you’re going to say that no, it’s not annoying and Bokuto doesn’t think so either. And that if Bokuto ever thinks I’m annoying, he can hit the road. But I still feel like I’m a bother,” Kenma said. “I’ve always been too dependent on you. Ever since we were kids.”

                Kuroo closed his laptop and slid into the bed, look at Kenma. “I’ve been with you this far, so I sure as hell am not going to be leaving you now. You’re fine, you aren’t a bother. Just go to sleep, kitten. Put today behind you and think about how tomorrow is a new day. Make tomorrow your bitch. Carpe diem.”

                “Why are you like this…?” Kenma sighed, rolling over and pressing himself against Kuroo.

                Kuroo laughed, kissed Kenma’s ear, and then wrapped his lanky body around Kenma.

                It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep.


	3. Made of Metal and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #1... High Enough by K. Flay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sawamura Daichi  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- Explicit m/m sex  
> \- Recreational drug use  
> \- Minor reference to sexual assault  
> \- 3138 words

**Collection 1**

 

The weights dropped with a shocking clang; so loud Daichi felt it in his teeth. The few others in the weight room glanced over and he apologized, wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts. He was breathing heavily and there was moisture dotting his body. All of his muscles were trembling, overexerted beyond measure.

                Daichi shakily got off the bench of the machine, going to an empty treadmill. He started off walking, and just as he was about to pick up his pace, the door opened and Tanaka entered. Daichi slowed and nodded a greeting at his friend.

                “You should probably quit for the day, man,” Tanaka said. “You’ve been in here for two and a half hours. And you look like you’re going to drop right here. The treadmill’s going to whip your body at the wall and nobody wants that.”

                Daichi wiped the wetness on his neck. His throat felt tight and full of fuzz. “I’m just going to wrap it up with a twenty-minute run, then I’ll be done. You don’t need me right away, do you? There’s not emergency or anything?”

                “No, you’ve just been in here for a long time. I was worried you’d dropped some weights on your head or something. Do your run and then come down to the commons; Ennoshita wanted to go grab something to eat,” Tanaka explained. He reached over and pressed a button on the treadmill, and within a few seconds, Daichi was in a full sprint. He swore at Tanaka as he laughed and left the workout room.

*** * ***

                Forty-five minutes later, Daichi had showered, put clean clothes on, and was still shaking from exertion. He almost felt feverish and Ennoshita pointed it out when he approached him and Tanaka. Yamamoto was there as well, off chatting up some girl.

                “Where are were going?” Daichi asked, running a hand through his still damp hair. His skin was hot.

                “Thought we’d grab an uber and head to Sea Front,” Tanaka said. Yamamoto was walking back over, smiling triumphantly. “After that we were going to head back to Noya’s.”

                Daichi yawned and said, “I’ll meet you at Noya’s. I promised Suga I’d pick him up from work today, but I don’t know if he’ll be down to get even the slightest bit fucked.”

                “Come on, bring him,” Tanaka said. “He needs it more than any of us. We’ll loosen him up and then you can take Cinderella back home. By tomorrow, he’ll be glad he got fucked tonight. By the drugs and you, hey, hey?”

                Daichi gave him a disgusted look and shook his head. They walked down the sidewalk leisurely, the sun breaking from the clouds, but the wind still gusting. A few blocks down, they met with an uber and hopped in. The vehicle smelled of pine—and there were about fifty car fresheners hanging from the rear-view mirror. Yamamoto and Tanaka sat in the very back, and Daichi and Ennoshita were in the bucket seats. Yamamoto was playing bass-heavy music through the aux cord.

                Daichi pulled out his phone, looking at the notifications on his lock screen.

                **_Twitter_** _nobiku_fitness – make sure to sign up for our monthly subsc…_

_**Suga** (4 unread messages)_

_**Reminder** Buy milk and bread_

_**Reminder** Essay due (midnight)_

He opened the messages from Suga, muting out the thumping of music. Suga’s messages were spread out from 3am that morning until thirty minutes ago.

                **_Suga_** _its late I know but I really can’t sleep. where did you go? (3:05am)_

_**Suga** left for work. theres breakfast in the fridge for you. idk where_

_you are but don’t forget you have class at 1030 (8:42am)_

_**Suga** done work at 6 could you pick me up then please? (1:15pm)_

_**Suga** are you ok? you haven’t responded to any of my texts and _

_I haven’t seen you since yesterday at lunch (4:51pm)_

                Daichi tapped out a short message in response.

**_Daichi_ ** _im fine. will be there at 6. wanna come to noyas afterwards?_

                He paused.

**_Daichi_ ** _did you sleep at all? im sorry I wasn’t there_

                He slid his phone away and looked out the window at the passing buildings—all of them were rotting and damaged from the salty moisture in the air. There was a group of seagulls picking and pulling at a garbage bag that was sitting in front of one of the towns newspaper companies. The driver honked the horn at them as they passed by and the bird disbanded in a swirl of feathers and squawks.

                “Are you guys going to be needing a pick up as well?” the driver asked as the four of them got out of the vehicle, the wind coming off the water tearing at their clothes. Ennoshita leaned in the guy’s window and told him, that no, they would be alright.

                Noya’s house was just a few blocks away. The walk wouldn’t be far. Daichi lifted a hand as the driver pulled away and then the four of them entered the diner. It was a little early for dinner, but there was a good handful of people already seated at a few of the tacky fish shaped tables.

_BzzBzzzBzz._

**_Suga_ ** _sleep is for the weak_

                Daichi, Ennoshita, Tanaka, and Yamamoto seated themselves at a table in the back corner, slinging their jackets over the backs of the chairs and picking up the menus. Tanaka leaned over and showed Ennoshita a raunchy photo of some girl on his phone, whistling and laughing. Daichi slapped his own phone on his lap under the table, pretending to be interested in the meals listed under the dinner menu.

                “Hey, can you guys order me a beer to start? I’m going to the washroom quick,” Daichi said, screeching his chair back and starting in the direction of the overhanging sign stating WASHROOMS.

                He pushed into the single person bathroom, locking the door behind him and shivering, unlocking his phone again.

                **_Daichi_** _whats your schedule for the rest of the week?_

Daichi rubbed his face, whispering out a curse. He slid his phone into his pocket and fumbled for the tap, running the cold water, before cupping his hands and splashing his face. He would give _anything_ to have a joint or _something_ right now.

*** * ***

                “Hey…” Daichi said softly, pulling Suga towards him and kissing him. “How was work?”

                “Average. Hinata and Kageyama dropped by.” Suga tossed his stuff in the back of the uber, climbing in before Daichi. “How about you? Anything exciting?”

                Daichi studied his boyfriend’s soft features. “I went out for dinner with Ennoshita, Tanaka, and Yamamoto, but that’s it.” Suga was on his phone, inserting things into his reminders and checking things off. His skin looked grey. “Have you eaten recently?” Daichi asked.

                “Yeah, I had an apple during my break a few hours ago.” Suga flapped a hand. “Don’t worry about eating dinner without me. I’ll scavenge something up at home. Although… There’s been one thing I’ve been craving pretty much all day…” Suga put his phone down and slid a hand over Daichi’s thigh, gripping his crotch. He smirked and teased Daichi through the fabric of his pants.

                Daichi cleared his throat and pushed Suga’s hand off, linking their fingers together instead. “Are you- are you going to come to Noya’s?”

                Suga sighed and looked out his window. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of things I need to do. And I need to go grocery shopping and clean the place up. I’ve got a reading assignment to do and that online course I’m taking as well. Maybe next time.”

                “You always have a lot of things to do,” Daichi said. “Just ignore it for a night. You’re stressed out.”

                “I’m chronically stressed out,” Suga responded, tilting his head.

                “Please?”

                Daichi’s phone buzzed again. The pattern meant it was from Kuroo. Suga was still looking out the window. Daichi used his free hand to wiggle his phone out and opened the message. Just asking if he was going to the party. Daichi tapped back a short ‘yes’ and had _just_ sent it when Suga’s hand gripped his crotch again.

                “Suga—“

                He bit back a groan when Suga’s cold and slender fingers slid into his pants and underwear. He glanced up at the drivers face in the rear view mirror quickly, but the man was focused on the road.

                Suga’s hand wrapped around Daichi’s flaccid (but already tingling) cock. Daichi closed his eyes softly and licked his lips, tensing his thighs. From where they were, their apartment was still another three blocks away. If Suga continued what he was doing, Daichi would have a pretty hard time keeping quiet.

                “I want to use toys tonight…” Suga breathed, lips brushing Daichi’s ear and causing him to shiver. “I want wear one at the party…”

                Daichi swallowed, clearing his throat to hide a moan as his dick began to harden in Suga’s hand. Suga had an array of sex toys at home and Daichi _loved_ when they used them. Suga had no shame when it came to hiding something beneath his clothes, whether it be a vibrator or raunchy underwear.

                By the time they pulled up to their apartment building, Daichi had a total hard-on. Suga thanked the man for the drive while Daichi grabbed Suga’s bag to cover his boner as they made their way to their apartment.

                The minute the door closed behind them, Daichi pulled off his shirt and pushed Suga against the wall, kissing him feverishly. It wasn’t long before Suga was naked and on the kitchen floor, with Daichi—pants pulled down below his butt—pounding in and out of him.

*** * ***

                The walls of the house were vibrating and every room was smoky. Suga was attached to Daichi, one hand slid down the side of his pants, cupping one of his ass cheeks. From where they were, by the door, Daichi could see a muscular guy with buzzed black hair pinning Akaashi to the wall, a hand down his pants.

                Akaashi was flushed and struggling weakly, protesting.

                No one paid much attention.

                Daichi untangled from Suga, grabbing the guy’s bicep and pulling him back roughly. “Hey, man, he doesn’t want it, okay? He’s got a boyfriend.”

                Akaashi wiped his mouth, still against the wall, and the burly guy left, swiping a hand down and squeezing Akaashi’s crotch and said “I’ll be seeing you later” before sweeping away. Daichi clenched his jaw, watching him go.

                “Where is Bokuto anyways?” Suga asked.

                “I have no idea,” Akaashi answered. He straightened his clothes. “He went to get another drink and must have gotten distracted. I was just about to go find him.” He paused and looked at Daichi. “Thanks; for getting rid of him.”

                Daichi sniffed. “Yeah, well, he was being an ass and no one else really seemed to care.”

                “Don’t tell Bokuto,” Akaashi pleaded, raising his voice above the music as it changed to something with nerve jarring bass. “He’ll want to start something.”

                Daichi shrugged, silently agreeing. He knew Bokuto well enough to understand why Akaashi wouldn’t want to tell him. Although Daichi himself was a little bit tempted to punch the guy. Yeah, Akaashi was attractive, quiet, and soft spoken—no wonder everyone wanted to get off on him. But Akaashi was easily manipulated and if Bokuto wasn’t there to defend him… So Daichi kind of wanted to punch the guy for taking advantage of Akaashi.

                “Daichi! Suga! Hey~!” Tanaka shouted drunkenly. He lifted a red cup in cheers of their appearance. “The guys’ve got some shit in the kitchen if you wanna get high. And, uhhhh, I’m supposed to tell you—specifically Suga—that there are also condoms in the kitchen.”

                Suga grabbed Akaashi’s hand and trailed off into the throng of bodies. Daichi watched the back of his head until he was out of sight. He felt numb to the knowledge of knowing that Suga would likely be having sex with more than one person aside from him that night. Boys and girls alike. Threesome. Maybe foursome.

                “Let’s go to the kitchen. That’s where most people are,” Tanaka said, slinging his arm around Daichi’s shoulders. “Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa, the lot of them. Bokuto bought some pills he got from some guy and holy _shit_. You’ve gotta try ‘em.”

                “Yeah, alright,” Daichi laughed. He took Tanaka’s cup and finished off the drink. “But I’ve got to keep an eye on how much Suga drinks. He tends to lose count.”

                Last time, Suga had been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. He wasn’t exactly a regular drinker, but when there were copious amounts of alcohol, he really went for it. The only person not hammered out of the fucking universe was Kenma, who had called the ambulance when Suga passed out and began turning blue. Since then, Daichi vowed to keep track of how much Suga was drinking, because Suga himself didn’t seem to care.

                A deep roar of cheers erupted from the kitchen, and Daichi and Tanaka came around the corner just in time to see Kuroo slam a drink down on the counter. There were a few lines of coke on the countertop as well. Bokuto was holding a blunt, one arm around Akaashi’s waist. Yaku—seated on the counter with Lev between his legs—was taking a hit from a bong. Oikawa and Hanamaki were snorting the separate lines of coke, almost racing.

                Suga was already on the alcohol. He was sitting on the countertop with a beer bottle in one hand. Daichi entered the kitchen just in time to see him toss a pill down his throat and wash it out with the beer.

                Daichi approached him and slid a hand up his thigh. “What was that?”

                “No idea,” Suga said shortly, taking another swig of beer. He caught Daichi’s look. “I already called in sick to work tomorrow. I want to be on another fucking _planet_ by the time tonight is over.”

                The lights in the kitchen seemed to flicker as the music rattled the walls. It was so loud that Daichi wouldn’t be surprised if a neighbour filed a noise complaint. He took the beer out of Suga’s hand and finished it off.

                When he placed it on the counter, he leaned into Suga and mumbled, “I want to be the first to loosen you up before you go fuck everyone else in this place.”

                “Oh, Daichi! It would be my _pleasure_!” Suga cried, wrapping his arms and legs around Daichi.

                Daichi pulled him off of the counter and heard Kuroo shout, “Keep it safe, kiddos!” after them.

*** * ***

                Suga was splayed on the bed, naked. Daichi was positioned between his spread legs, hands stroking the back of his thighs. Spreading Suga’s ass cheeks was a baby blue, diamond butt plug. Daichi used two fingers and pushed the diamond, eliciting a whine from Suga.

                “You’re still slick,” Daichi mumbled, spreading around the mixture of lube and natural lubricant that was glistening on Suga’s rear. He hooked his fingers around the base of the plug and tugged lightly, puckering Suga’s ass.

                Suga moaned and arched his back. Once the widest part of the butt plug was past, Suga’s rear contracted and the rest of the toy was pushed out. Following it was a string of fluid. Daichi bit his lip and then slid the plug back in.

                “Lemme suck you off,” Suga moaned, stroking himself, one hand sneaking down to his ass. It brushed Daichi’s own hand that was already there.

                Daichi silently stood up and slid down his pants and underwear in one swift motion, his cock springing out. Suga tugged himself, pinching a nipple. Already he was flushed, eyes heavy with a mix of lust and the unknown drug.

                And then Suga sprung forward and he grabbed Daichi, throwing him down onto the bed. Suga wasted no time spreading Daichi’s knees and lowering his mouth to his cock. The second Daichi felt Suga’s familiar mouth pop over the head, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Suga was an expert at giving blowjobs, and he almost always swallowed.

                It drove Daichi crazy.

                “Ah, fuck,” Daichi breathed as Suga sucked his cheeks in. He gripped his balls.

                Suga dropped his head until Daichi’s dick struck the back of his throat, pulling moans from both. Daichi grasped Suga’s hair, tugging the silver locks. Suga’s nails dug deep into the back of Daichi’s thighs. His head bobbed, his tongue swirled, his throat vibrated, and Daichi was almost trembling from holding himself back from thrusting hard into Suga’s mouth.

                “Mmf, mmm,” Suga moaned, tapping Daichi’s hand entwined in his hair.

                Daichi glanced down and quickly loosened his grip. Suga popped up, gasping, and scowled. “Are you trying to suffocate me?”

                “Sorry,” Daichi replied. He removed his hands. “You’re in control. Got it. Please, do continue.”

                Suga stretched an arm out, linking his fingers with Daichi’s, before going down on him again. Instead of pulling Suga’s hair, Daichi grabbed the bedsheet below them. He could feel a mixture of Suga’s saliva and his own pre-cum dribbling down his cock and around his balls. When he looked down, he nearly came right then and there as he watched Suga’s stretched, slick lips slide smoothly up and down his shaft.

                And then Suga pulled off again, breathing heavily. His lips were dark and wet, glistening. Daichi watched as he reached behind him and slowly removed the butt plug, dropping it off to the side. Then he crawled over Daichi and lined himself up with his cock, lowering himself down. Daichi was thicker than the widest part of the butt plug and he couldn’t hold back the groan as he felt himself stretch his boyfriend.

                Daichi rested his hands on Suga’s thighs as he began to move up and down. Daichi could feel the knot in his stomach growing already as Suga sped up, his cheeks flushed. The smell of vanilla was emanating off of Suga. Vanilla and sex.

                Suga moaned, grinding his ass down as the tip of Daichi’s cock prodded his prostate. His arms were trembling.

                Daichi pulled Suga off of him and pressed his chest into the bed. Instinctively, Suga rose his ass in the air. It was slick. It was stretched. Daichi slid two fingers inside and leaned over, biting Suga’s shoulder.

                “ _God_ , you smell so good,” Daichi breathed. He added a third finger. “What is that?”

                “Vanilla body spray,” Suga responded. He reached between his legs and wrapped his hand around his cock, whimpering. “Fuck, Dai, put it in already.”

                And Daichi rammed himself into Suga’s ass. From there, it escalated without hesitation and within moments, Daichi was pounding into Suga mercilessly. He got to start Suga’s sex-frenzied rampage off with a bang.


	4. Ugly Inside and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #1... High Enough by K. Flay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Akaashi Keiji  
> \- Implied/Referenced Eating Disorder  
> \- Recreational Drug Use  
> \- Referenced Child Sexual Assault/Pedophilia  
> \- Rape/Non-Con  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- 2460 Words

**Collection 1**

 

The bathroom smelled of vomit and piss—both of which weren’t completely _in the toilet bowl_. Akaashi kicked down the lid and plunked himself on top, staring blankly at the mint green wall in front of him. The floor beneath his feet was throbbing from the music and the bathroom made him feel like he was in a padded room. One of the lights was out and the glass was shattered in the sink, making it dim.

                If Akaashi screamed right now, nobody would hear him. And if someone did, they wouldn’t care. Everyone here was too stoned, too drunk, too busy fucking or being fucked to care. Bokuto included.

                Akaashi opened his mouth, opened his throat, and considered screaming, before snapping it shut again. He got off the toilet lid and flipped it up, looking at the water. There was a nub of a cigarette floating in it. Akaashi flushed.

                And then he assumed the position. He dropped to his knees and shoved two fingers to the back of his throat, scratching. He gagged. Wretched. _Dug harder_. His stomach rolled and convulsed. _He dug **HARDER**_. Vomited. It felt like fire rushing up his esophagus, scorching his lungs and heart on the way.

                The concoction of different drinks he’d consumed came up, along with brown muck from the weed brownies. He hoped the pill he’d taken from Bokuto would leave as well, but it was too late to reverse the nauseating effects of that one. It felt like there were razors tearing at his stomach. His extremities felt numb. His nose and tongue tingled.

                Akaashi couldn’t quite remember what drugs he’d taken, but the combination of everything he’d thrown down his throat was making his entire body buzz. His brain felt like it was swelling and about to squeeze out his eyes and ears.

                Akaashi flushed the toilet a second time. He picked up a bottle of jack from the floor and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it out in the sink. He pulled at his face with stiff, numb fingers and cursed what he saw.

                Before he was tempted to do something harmful, Akaashi left the bathroom and went in search of a quiet room that wasn’t occupied by frenzied mating animals. The first room he passed by (door wide open) he saw Suga bouncing up and down on Semi Eita’s dick, his hands pressed to Semi’s abdomen.

                The hallway tilted under Akaashi’s feet and his vision doubled. It didn’t feel like he was walking. He felt like he was floating, gliding. All he was, was a head. He wondered where Bokuto was. It was late and Akaashi felt suddenly very overwhelmed by everything.

It felt like there was water in his left ear.

                Next room, he slid into without checking if there was anyone there. He closed his eyes and swayed. He didn’t even hear the click of the door behind him. The room was light, giving him an instant migraine despite the fact that his eyes were shut.

                When he opened them, he saw three brute guys sitting, staring at him. They were out of focus and Akaashi opened his mouth, tongue feeling like cotton.

                “I’m sorry…” he slurred. “I was just… I just needed somewhere quiet. Can I- Can I sit here for a bit?”

                Akaashi rose his hands to his face. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. He couldn’t imagine how flushed he probably was.

                “Hey, yeah, no, take a seat. Lay down or something. You look like you’re going to drop dead,” one of the guys said, shifting over on the bed and patting the pillow next to him. Akaashi stumbled to the bed and fell onto it, curling up as his head spun erratically.

                The only thing he could hear was the muffled bass from the music. The three guys were saying something, but Akaashi couldn’t make sense of the words. He wanted to fall asleep. The bed was soft, like a pile of clouds. Except clouds would be cold. This was warm. He felt like he was in the middle of a cotton field on a warm spring day.

                The lights flicked off and Akaashi’s screaming mind settled slightly. “Thank you…” he mumbled, sighing.

                “Oh, no, thank _you_ , Keiji,” one of the guys said lowly. The bed dipped and then suddenly there were hands on Akaashi’s body.

                His eyes flew open and he went to grab the guy’s wrist, but his hand-eye coordination was off and he missed. It felt like he was glued to the bed. He couldn’t move. Akaashi tried to push against the guy and his hands that were pulling his shirt up. Another one was pulling his pants down.

                “Get… Get o- off of me,” Akaashi fumbled. _Shit he was so tired_. “I have a boyfriend… I have a boyfriend.”

                “Yeah, Bokuto’s off fucking some chick in the pool last I checked,” one of the guys said, wrangling Akaashi’s t-shirt over his head. “I promise; we’ll make him so jealous he won’t fuck anyone else ever again.”

                Akaashi squirmed. His actions felt blurred, too fast, as if someone had him in fast-forward, but everyone else was going in real time. He knew that Bokuto was fucking some girl in the pool. _He told Bokuto it was okay. They didn’t need to make him jealous._

Akaashi was naked. **_EXPOSED_**. They could see all the lumps and stretch marks on his body. They could see his too dark nipples and too small penis. They could see _everything_ that was wrong with him.

                “Hey, guys… I don’t really think he wants you to do this,” the third guy said, off to the side somewhere. When Akaashi turned his head to look, it felt like his face was melting off. He still couldn’t see right. It was dark. Everything was moving—inanimate objects and all.

                The guy above Akaashi looked down, hands gripping his hips too tightly. “Do you not want us to do this? Do you not want to be fucked?”

                Akaashi shook his head. His tongue was gone. He hoped he was shaking his head.

                “See, he said no,” the third guy said sympathetically. “No means no, and all that shit. Leave him alone. Whatever he took, it’s got him fucked enough.”

                The guy above him laughed. “He said no to not wanting to be fucked. If I’d asked if he _wanted_ to, then his no would be valid. But technically, he was disproving my question. Just get the fuck out, alright Nagi?”

                Akaashi couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want the third guy to leave. He wanted Bokuto to come up. He wanted the hands off of him.

                “Hnnggh,” Akaashi moaned weakly when he felt a cold and slick finger slide between his ass cheeks. He couldn’t form words. He couldn’t even call out for someone, or scream, or anything. All he could do was moan and groan—and the two guys took that as pleasure.

                Akaashi was trying to protest against the lubed hand slicking up his ass, the second hand working on getting him hard, and the other two hands of the other guy pinning his hands off to the side while he licked, sucked, and bit at Akaashi’s chest and nipples.

                “I wanna double team him,” the lead guy mumbled to the second. “Start stretching him out. I don’t want there to be blood.”

                “I wanted him to suck me off,” the second guy responded.

                “He’s not responsive enough for that. Just take what you can get or leave him to me.”

                A finger pressed into Akaashi and he let out a high moan, more of a whimper. Fingers pinched his nipples. Akaashi felt like he was strung upside by his toes. The finger wasn’t alone for long before another one joined, and then a third, stroking and stretching. Violating. Feeling his disgusting insides.

                “I don’t…” Akaashi slurred, squirming. The fingers inside of him pulled out but were quickly replaced by something that could only be the second guy’s cock. “Get out… Get out of me…” Tears burned Akaashi’s eyes and he was tugged back into memories that he’d locked up ages ago. The lock snapped off just as the first guy’s fingers shoved into his mouth.

                Akaashi was back at his old house, back in his old town, living with his step father, mom, and grandma.

                He’d always been pretty. Obedient. Quiet. He got it from his mom.

                “Aah, _fuck_ ,” the guy moaned, slowly sliding in and out of Akaashi. “He feels as good as he looks. Smooth and tight.”

                That’s what his step-dad told him whenever he pulled Akaashi into the master bedroom, locking the door. _Smooth and tight—better that your mom’s pussy._ Seven-year-old Akaashi didn’t know how to stop what his step-dad was doing. He didn’t want to tell his mom, because for the first time ever, she was happy with her marriage.

                And his mom never saw her husband subtly grabbing Akaashi’s bottom, or sliding a hand down his shirt behind her back. She never realized that her husband would take her only child into their bedroom and touch and fuck him when she wasn’t there. Grandma was too old to hear the sounds, too old to go up the stairs and see what was happening.

                “…ss the lube… don’t come… side… pull out…”

                Akaashi was fading in and out of consciousness.

                For years, Akaashi’s step-father touched him and used him as a sex toy—an inanimate sex object. Fingered him, fucked him, forced him to suck his dick, stuck objects into him. And then, when Akaashi was fourteen, his mom came home early from work and caught her husband mid-orgasm, his cock buried deep inside her son.

                “…ull him on… so I… get inside…”

                She had screamed and hit her husband. That night, Akaashi’s step father was arrested, his grandma was put into a home, and him and his mom got in their car and drove six hours to his aunt’s house for refuge. They lived there for years. His mom was still living there, wondering where she went wrong with two failed marriages and how she hadn’t seen her husband raping her son.

                “Nngh, aa-ahh,” the two guys grunted as the first one pushed in alongside his friend.

                Akaashi was limp. He was too drunk, too high, too _whatever_ to feel the stretch, and burn, and sting of the two cocks pounding in and out of him. He was stuck in his fuzzy head, scrambling to pick up the pieces of the locked box that had exploded open, bringing everything to the forefront again.

                “…’s hard... You like it, Keiji?... leaking everywhere… can cum…”

                Akaashi closed his eyes. Was he enjoying it? He didn’t think so, but his own penis was erect and he could feel the fluid leaking from his rear, self lubricating. He felt heat explode inside of him, and the one on top pulled out and ejaculated over Akaashi’s chest.

                “I thought I told you to pull out?” the first guy wheezed.

                “Got a little carried away,” the guy beneath Akaashi said, laughing. His now limp cock was still inside of Akaashi. Cum was dribbling down his legs.

                “Carried away my ass. Come on, pull out and let’s go. Just leave him here. Bokuto will find him eventually. Or somebody, anyways.”

                The cock pulled out and Akaashi was laid down on the bed, covered in cum and naked. The two guys left the room and within seconds, Akaashi drifted into unconsciousness.

*** * ***

                “Akaashi…? Hey, hey, come on, wake up. Akaashi… Keiji, what the hell happened?”

                Someone was shaking him, one hand on the side of his face. Akaashi shivered violently, not wanting to wake up.

                “Oikawa, go get Bokuto. He’s down in the hot tub.” The person draped something over Akaashi, as if he was a dead body at a crime scene.

                Akaashi’s eyes shot open and it took him a few seconds to focus on Iwaizumi, standing above him. His hand pulled off of his face and grabbed a cloth from a bucket, squeezing water from it.

                Iwaizumi began wiping sticky cum from Akaashi’s face and neck. “What happened? I don’t believe that you came up here to have some raunchy sex and didn’t clean yourself up afterwards. Who did this to you?”

                Akaashi felt vomit rush up his throat and he didn’t have time to lean over the bed even before it came out.

                “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely to Iwaizumi, who had jumped out of the way. His body felt like it had been run over by a semi, followed by a stampede of horses.

                “Akaashi!” Bokuto’s voice called from the stairwell. Ten seconds later, he burst into the room and pushed Iwaizumi out of the way. “Who did this to you? I’m going to fucking kill them. Sit up, sit up before you choke on your barf. Are you bleeding? I’m going to rip their fucking head off! Let me clean you up.”

                Akaashi swayed as Bokuto helped him into a sitting position. Iwaizumi handed Bokuto the towel and Oikawa handed Akaashi a glass of water. Akaashi could hear Suga’s drunken laugh from all the way downstairs. Why could Suga so easily have sex with anybody and still laugh like that? The rare times Akaashi and Bokuto did it together, Akaashi had to recollect himself for _weeks_ before he was even mildly okay with going all the way again.

                Bokuto finished wiping down Akaashi’s chest and then slid his shirt back over his head, and then took off the flannel he had on over his own t-shirt, and draped it around Akaashi’s shoulders. Oikawa and Iwaizumi left the room, closing the door quietly on the way out.

                Bokuto handed the cloth to Akaashi and softly said, “Here, wipe your bottom half off and I’ll look for some sweatpants or something.”

                “Why?” Akaashi croaked, dazed.

                Bokuto frowned. “There’s cum on the pants you were wearing.” He paused. “Did you see who did this?”

                Akaashi wiped his legs and unsteadily got off the bed, choking back a whimper as he gently cleaned his back end of the dried cum. He watched Bokuto shift through the closet and tear down a pair of black sweats.

                “There was two of them…” Akaashi said quietly. He let Bokuto help him into the sweatpants. “I couldn’t see them. They… They fucked me at the same time, Bokuto. One of them was named Nagi, but he left.”

                “Nagi?” Bokuto clenched his jaw and put his hands on Akaashi’s face, looking him in the eye. “You stay right here. I’ll be right back, and then we’re going home. You’re coming home with me tonight. I’ll be right back.”

                “Bo, don’t—“

                The door slammed shut.


	5. The World Won't Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #1... High Enough by K. Flay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sugawara Koushi  
> \- Recreational Drug Use  
> \- Mentions Rape  
> \- Use of Sex Toys  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- 2141 Words

 

**Collection 1**

 

Bokuto came thundering down the stairs, stumbling on the last few steps. Suga, seated on Daichi’s lap, blinked a few times and tilted his head. Everything had an orange hue, Bokuto included.

                Bokuto was on _fire_.

                “Where the fuck is Jae and Seung? Where are they?” Bokuto demanded.

                Suga looked back at Daichi. Both of them recognized Seung’s name—as he was the one that they had found forcing himself onto Akaashi when they first got to the party.

                “Look, man,” Daichi spoke up. “Akaashi doesn’t want you to start anything. Seung was just drunk, or whatever. He didn’t cause any harm.”

                “Didn’t cause any harm? They fucking raped him! Oikawa and Iwaizumi found him fucking passed out with jizz all over himself!” Bokuto was shouting. Waves of anger were rolling off of him and everyone knew what Bokuto could get like when he got angry.

                “What do you mean they raped him?” Suga asked, frowning. He was too drunk to fully process the severity of the situation. “Are you sure Akaashi didn’t just decide to have some fun? I mean, you _were_ fucking some girl in the hot tub not long ago.”

                “Suga, don’t be fucking ignorant,” Bokuto snapped. “You know Akaashi isn’t a whore like you. _Fucking_ isn’t exactly his idea of a fun time and you know that. Someone tell me where Jae and Seung are!”

                Suga sighed and got off of Daichi’s lap, head spinning. The butt plug inside of him moved with his movement and it made his stomach flip with pleasure. “I hate to break it to you, babe, but they left. Which is probably better. You need to cool down before you get yourself arrested again.”

                Then, before Suga could react, Bokuto seemed to rush forward with inhuman speed, and then his fist came up and crashed into his face. Suga felt his body drop like a sack of potatoes and the pain just rang dully in his head, suppressed by the shit he’d taken throughout the night. He couldn’t hear it all that well, but Daichi was yelling—suddenly standing over him.

                Suga felt his cheek. His head was throbbing like it was going to explode.

                “Suga? Suga? Are you okay?”

                He turned his face to Ennoshita and Goshiki. Above them, everyone that had been in the room was shouting—Daichi, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Tanaka, Ushijima, and Terushima. Suga clutched his head and curled into himself, trying to ease the pressure inside is skull.

                “Bokuto! Bokuto! Koutaro!”

                Akaashi’s voice joined the shouting and Suga saw him stumble down the stairs. Akaashi’s eyes locked onto Suga’s, and the black-haired boy had a look of utter horror on his face.

                Suga pushed himself to his feet and just as he straightened, blood began streaming from his nose. Daichi was trying to break out of Ushijima’s and Iwaizumi’s hold, screaming obscenities at Bokuto—who was being held back by Kuroo.

                “Koushi, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Akaashi said, pushing through to Suga. The hands covering his mouth were shaking.

                “Not your fault,” Suga said, tongue feeling thick. “Come on, we’ll let the men handle things in here. Let’s go out to the porch.”

                “You need tissue,” Akaashi whispered, letting Suga drag him out of the living room.

                “Yeah, but there’s a lot of things I need,” Suga responded, opening the front door, and stepping onto the porch. The wind was chilly. He sat down on the porch swing, rotting and damp from the sea. “Bokuto said the twins… He said the twins raped you. Is that true?”

                Akaashi stared down at Suga.

                “Keiji,” Suga said quietly. “Shit, you need to talk to someone about that. Like, the police, you know?”

                “They won’t take my side, you know that,” Akaashi said. “I’m a gay _male_. And I was- I _am_ high; drunk; pissed off my face; whatever you want to say. They’re not going to take my side.”

                “Yeah,” Suga muttered. He wiped his nose, feeling sick all of the sudden. Bokuto hadn’t even _hit_ his nose, instead very much shattering Suga’s ear. In front of him, Akaashi took a large, shaking breath, and turned around, looking down at the beach.

                Suga rocked his ass, feeling the plug slide around with the cum that was still coating and inside his rear.  Then he got up and went to stand beside his friend. A few feet away from the water was Asahi and Nishinoya, laying with their backs on the sand, staring at the night sky.

                “Surprised Asahi let Noya hold a party,” Suga commented.

                “They’ll probably want to burn their bed now,” Akaashi whispered. He pushed his hair back with his trembling hands, leaning against the porch banister. “How do you do it? You’re always so happy… and you just… You have no _shame_. You can have _fun_.”

                The shouting inside had ceased. Any minute Daichi would come barrelling out, looking for Suga.

                “Yeah, but my idea of fun isn’t your idea of fun,” Suga shrugged. “Your idea of fun is sitting in a blanket with some snacks and binge watching a TV show. Sex isn’t you forte. Whatever, that’s fine. I have enough sex for the both of us anyways.” He paused and heard Akaashi sniffle. “I’m sorry about tonight,” Suga whispered. “But you can’t blame yourself for it. For _any_ of it. Your dad and those pricks tonight. None of it is your fault.”

                Akaashi straightened, keeping his head bowed as he wiped his eyes. “I—“

                “Koushi!”

                The screen door banged open and Daichi stepped out of the house heavily, shaking the wood planks of the porch. He gave Akaashi’s cheek a quick kiss before grabbing Suga’s head in his hands and saying, “You’re bleeding everywhere. Son of a bitch… _God,_ are you okay? Can you see alright? What’s the date? What’s your cell number?”

                Suga smiled and felt his nose. It was no longer bleeding, but he had dried blood all over his face and shirt.

                “Dai, I’m fine. Just rattled my head a little bit, nothing to worry about. I think it’s time we went home though.” Suga looked at Akaashi. “Did you want to catch a ride with us? We can take you home—unless you’re going with Bokuto.”

                Akaashi provided a miniscule smile. “I’ll go with Bokuto. Thanks, though.”

                Suga gave Akaashi a big hug before Daichi and him made their way back to the main roads, hailing down a cab. When they got back to their apartment, Daichi immediately got into bed while Suga stripped down his clothes, removed the butt plug, and hopped in the shower to clean off the sex and blood that was covering him.

                Already, the events of the night were slipping from his mind as he shampooed his hair, going through his mental list of things he needed to do. His parents’ voices were echoing in his head.

                _You aren’t challenging yourself enough, Koushi. You’re putting your brain to waste._

He had to finish an assignment for his forensics professor. He was falling behind in his online courses.

                _You’ll never be able to support yourself or a family without a job._

He still had two six hour shifts left that week. He was going to regret cancelling tomorrow’s shift. He had to pay his half of the rent by the end of the month, and he was just holding onto one hundred dollars in his bank account.

                _Clean the house before we come home. No one likes returning to a pig sty. This mess is the reason you’re so depressed all the time._

He hadn’t cleaned the apartment for three days. Daichi was going to be disgusted. He was just too exhausted to clean, but it had to be done.

                _You can’t eat that processed food all the time. You’re going to have a heart attack by the time you’re twenty. It’s the reason you’re breaking out so badly._

His diet was slipping. He needed to go grocery shopping again.

                _Get off your lazy ass and do something other than sleeping all day._

Suga decided he would clean the apartment and work on his courses rather than sleep. He hadn’t slept the night before either—and when Daichi wasn’t there to help him fall asleep, he masturbated instead.

                “Kou, come to bed!” Daichi’s voice called.

                Suga shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off with a towel. The butt plug was sitting in the sink, submerged in hot water. After he’d brushed his teeth, Suga took it out, dried it off, and tossed it into the bucket under the sink—containing many other sex toys.

                In the bedroom, Daichi was underneath the blankets already, heavy eyed as he watched Suga enter.

                “Mm… C’mere,” Daichi mumbled, flipping up the covers.

                “I’m going to clean the house, babe,” Suga whispered. He kissed Daichi softly and then turned around to pull on some underwear and a pair of sweats.

                Daichi made a noise of irritation. “Suga, you haven’t slept for, what? Two days? Come to bed. You look horrible.”

                “Well, I feel radiant, thank you for that encouraging compliment. And anyways, the house needs to be cleaned. It’s a pig sty.” His mother’s deprecating voice buzzed in his head like a radio with bad signal. He looked at Daichi. “You know how I get when the house is messy. I’ll just tidy it quickly.”

                Daichi shook his head. “You have tomorrow off. You can clean it completely tomorrow. You need to _sleep_.”

                “It’s four in the morning already,” Suga commented. “If I go to sleep now, I won’t wake up until noon or later tomorrow, and then the day will be wasted. You sleep. I’ll clean and have breakfast ready for you for when you wake up.”

                Daichi sighed heavily, clearly too tired to argue any further, and almost instantly conked out. Suga smiled a tight-lipped smile and went to make himself a cup of coffee.

*** * ***

                At around 7am, Suga vomited in the sink, not making it to the toilet. He was washing dishes when a wave of nausea punched him and he threw up into the water. The mug in his hand flew from his hand and shattered against the ground.

                “Fuck,” he mumbled, stomach churning again. He rubbed his burning eyes, exhaustion blanketing him. “Fuck. Fuck my life. Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck!”

                Suga slid to the ground and picked up the split up chunks of the mug, putting them on the counter. He dragged himself back up and reached into the vomit water, pulling the plug and then taking the dishes out again. He let his body slump back against the floor.

                He was asleep before the sink finished draining.

*** * ***

                Some time later, he woke up in bed. His body was wet and burning with sweat, his clothes sticking to him. The bed sheets were tangled around his legs and his throat was sandy. The moment his eyes flew open, he scrambled for his phone to see what time it was.

                **1:21 PM.**

“Daichi!” he croaked, wincing at the pain that tore apart his throat. “Daichi! Why didn’t you wake me up!?”

                Suga got out of bed, swaying dangerously as he stood. The world went black for a few seconds and it cleared away in sparks of stars. As soon as he could see again, he dizzily staggered to the door, already feeling his chest tighten and tears blur his vision.

                “Suga, whoa, hey, steady,” Daichi said, coming around the corner, grabbing Suga’s elbow. “I think you’ve got a fever. Take it easy.”

                Heat was literally radiating off of Suga, and he could feel it around him like a humid cloud. He glared, unable to stop the scrunching of his nose and the pouting of his lips as a fat tear slid over his cheek. “You didn’t wake me up,” he whimpered. “You didn’t wake me up! I have things to do.”

                “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Daichi said gently. “You need to take care of yourself though. You haven’t been eating, you haven’t been sleeping, and now you’re sick. You’ve been overexerting yourself and you need to stop for a day or two.”

                “Daichi, the world isn’t just going to _wait_ for me because I’m sick,” Suga responded. He slid out of Daichi’s hold and brushed past him, going into the kitchen. He saw the dishes were washed and put away. The shattered mug was gone. There was a pot of soup on the stove. There were bags of groceries on the counter.

                Daichi slid his arms around Suga’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You work on your classes and let me handle the rest, alright? The world won’t stop, but you can. Just for a day. You stop and let the rest of the world move on.”

 


	6. Firecracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #2... We Have It All by Pim Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Kageyama Tobio  
> \- Underage Drinking  
> \- Drunk Driving  
> \- Minor Nudity  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- 1444 Words

**Collection 2**

 

Kageyama didn’t plan on going to the second half of the day’s classes in the first place. Hinata and him didn’t exactly day drink very often, but this particular day seemed like a good one for such a thing.  

                During their English class, they cracked open a couple of cold ones, drinking almost continuously through the hour. It didn’t take Hinata very long to get a little bit tipsy, but Kageyama on the other hand had to continue drinking well into Global Studies. Halfway through that class, Kageyama was feeling _good_.

                Maybe he wasn’t sufficiently drunk enough to pass out or throw up, but he _was_ fucked enough to not bother hesitating before getting into the car. Even if he had been in the right mind, Kageyama didn’t care that he was too drunk to drive. Drunk was good. Drunk and driving is fine. If he crashed, whatever. If he got hurt, whatever. If he died, whatever. He didn’t give a shit what happened.

                So, with a beer in one hand and keys in the other, Kageyama got behind the wheel with Hinata jumping in beside him. He revved the engine and tore out of the parking lot, a sudden blinding rage sweeping through his body. _He wanted people to hurt_.  

                At first, Kageyama tried to obey the laws of the road, but quickly the alcohol weighed his foot down until he was reaching speeding down the narrow streets like a comet. Hinata whooped as they screamed around a corner, nearly hitting a car parked on the other side of the street.

                “Hey, slow down, slow down,” Hinata laughed. His words held no seriousness. He leaned forward and rummaged through the glove compartment, pulling out a vape and putting it to his lips. He blew the smoke out of his mouth, filling the truck. After exhaling, he said, “Wanna know what I heard the other day?”

                “Hm?” Kageyama hummed, blowing a stop sign. Somebody honked.

                “I heard that Akaashi was raped at that party the other night. _And_ Jae and Seung have pictures,” Hinata answered. He propped his feet up on the dashboard and rolled his head to look at Kageyama. He held out a hand for the beer bottle and mumbled, “Lemme have a sip.”

                Kageyama took another swig and then passed it over. The information that Akaashi had been raped slid in one ear and out the other. Kageyama liked Akaashi, but he could bring himself to _care_. He couldn’t bring himself to _feel_.

He jerked the wheel around a corner and clipped a ‘School Zone’ sign. The wing mirror of the car exploded in a shatter of plastic, making Hinata flinch.

                “Shit! Shit!” he shrieked, shielding his face despite the window being closed. The beer bottle slipped out of his hand and spilled over the floor mat. Hinata whined unbuckling his seatbelt and spinning around, reaching for the cooler in the back seat. Kageyama’s vision was beginning to tunnel on the road. _I heard Akaashi was raped at the party._ Kageyama had never had sex. He’d never wanted or desired to. He didn’t spit at the idea of sex, but he preferred not to. He wasn’t uncomfortable with his body. He masturbated almost every night. He watched porn. _I heard Akaashi was raped at the party._ Sex wasn’t disgusting, but rape sure was. Kageyama had a cousin who killed herself because she had been sexual assaulted by her older sister’s boyfriend.

Kageyama clenched his teeth and floored the pedal. The vehicle made a horrible sound of complaint before lurching forward. “Oh, my god, Yama, slow down! Slow—”

                The front wheels scraped over a curb and practically flew towards a post office. Before Hinata could finish his sentence, they crashed through the outside wall and the air bags exploded in a burst of bright white.

* * *

                Kageyama woke up not in a hospital bed, but in a jail cell in the county sheriff’s office. His arm was in a cast and his entire body ached like he’d just drove through a building—which he had. His head pounded with a thousand vibrating drums.

                He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at the officer reclined in a chair.

                “Ah, you’re awake. How’re you feeling? Want some water?”

                “Please,” Kageyama croaked. He scooted forward on the bench and grasped the bars enclosing him. The officer got up and filled a paper cup, passing it to him and then putting his hands on his hips.

                “You wanna tell me what you and your lil’ firecracker were doing crashing into the post office on your little joy ride?” he asked.

                Kageyama gulped back the water and the sandpaper in his throat burned like hell. He passed it back to the officer, politely asking for more and then said, “Got drunk.  ‘m sorry. Was anyone… Was anyone hurt?”

                The officer handed the second cup of water through the bars. “Just your friend. Got his Jell-O jiggled pretty good and broke his collar bone. The post office was closed though; lucky for you. You could have been in deeper shit if there’d been civilians in there.”

                Kageyama dropped his head and pressed his fingers into his temples.

                “Is he going to be okay?” he mumbled. “Is he in the hospital?”

                “Yeah, he’ll be okay,” the officer responded. “You boys are lucky, let me tell you that. You’re getting off with a warning today, but if this happens again it’ll be going on your record. It’s going on Hinata’s this time and that’s on you.”

                Kageyama’s head snapped up, making him reel. “Why? Why am I getting a warning and he’s not? I was the one driving!”

                “He’s in the system. Everything they do goes in their file. I don’t make the rules. He’s technically the government’s kid, and they make the rules. It could have been worse for him. Underage drinking in a foster kids file is nothing surprising.” The officer walked over to a corded phone on the wall and pulled it off, passing it to Kageyama. “Call someone to come pick you up. Your truck is destroyed and your license is indefinitely suspended. Can’t let you go without a legal guardian to get you, kid.”

                Kageyama nodded, knowing how it worked. He took the phone and punched in his mom’s cell number, praying that she would pick up. The officer went back to his chair and crossed his arms, watching Kageyama. The phone rang three times.

                “Huh?”

                “Mom?” Kageyama asked, looking at his feet.

                “Who’s this?”

                “Tobio, mom. Your only child,” he said slowly. He could practically smell the alcohol on her breath through the phone. “Can you come pick me up?”

                “Tobi…?” she hummed. “Where’re you? This isn’t your number.”

                Kageyama looked up at the officer, suddenly embarrassed. “No, it’s not. I’m- I’m at the police station. I got arrested. Can you come get me? I’ll explain everything later, but I just need you to come and get me.”

                “For fucks sake, Tobio. I’ll be there right away.”

                “Thanks,” he whispered. “And mom? Don’t drive, please. Call a cab or something. Just don’t drive. I can tell you’re drunk.”

                There was a lengthy pause and then, “I won’t, baby. I promise, I won’t.”

                And then the line clicked off.

* * *

                “You could have gotten seriously injured,” his mom said, stumbling into the kitchen, and pulling open the fridge. She grabbed another beer.

                Kageyama stared at the naked form sprawled on the living room sofa. Her legs were spread open and her breasts were in plain view. He pulled his gaze away and looked back towards his mother. They stared at each other in silence, before Kageyama spoke.

                “Who is she?”

                His mom flapped a hand, putting the bottle down and grabbing some plates off the table. She tossed them into the sink unceremoniously, saying, “No one to worry about. She’s just helping your momma out for a little while.”

                Kageyama looked at the woman again. “She’s naked.”

                “Yes,” his mom said. She patted his cheek as she walked by. “It’s the best way to have sex, baby boy. Now you go to your bedroom and think about your actions today. I’ll see you in the morning, alright? I love you.”

                She dropped down on the recliner, put her feet up on the coffee table and turned on the television. Kageyama heaved a sigh and hit the light switch as he walked by, putting the house into darkness. He didn’t turn the light on in his room, just dropped onto the bed, tugged his pants off, and began to jerk himself off.


	7. Kick the Dog That Disobeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #2... We Have It All by Pim Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Kozume Kenma  
> \- Mental/Emotional Abuse  
> \- Panic Attack  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- 2293 Words

**Collection 2**

 

The cupboards were barren. It wasn’t really an issue for Akaashi or Kenma, personally, but Kuroo and Bokuto were constantly complaining about being hungry. Akaashi preferred to stay away from calories, and Kenma just didn’t really eat unless it was handed to him. That morning, Kuroo decided to go grocery shopping—dragging Kenma with him. Bokuto was sleeping still, and Akaashi hadn’t stayed the night and was at his own apartment.

                Kenma, never without his phone, wasn’t the greatest company and he hated that he always felt like he was annoying Kuroo (or _anyone_ ) by constantly being on his phone, but he hated having to socialize because people would… _analyze._ Games were easier. There was a set goal. There were rules. There were controls. There was a persona to hide behind.

                In the Uber beside Kuroo though, it wasn’t a game this time that had him so engrossed in his phone. It was the incoming texts from his mom _and_ dad.

                **_Dad_** _kenma please call me to let me know you’re alright_

_**Dad** it wouldn’t be the best for you to come home right now, but just let me know you’re okay?_

_**Mom** I haven’t seen you in three days. I’m giving you until tonight to come and get your things if you don’t call and explain yourself._

_**Mom** I’m selling all your games and your play stations if you keep this sort of behaviour up. _

_**Mom** I am sick and tired of you. _

_**Dad** if you don’t want to call or talk, at least let me know if youre with Kuroo_

_**Mom** I will be calling to phone company to cancel your contract this afternoon. I will not put up with your fucking behaviour anymore. Always playing your childish games and ignoring your mother and father. You never do what I ask. I’ve had enough of ‘being nice’. Say goodbye to your games, say goodbye to your phone, and say goodbye to Kuroo. I want you home right now. _

_**Mom** You’re an awful role model for your sister. How do you think she feels with you as her older brother? You never think of anyone but yourself. I raised you and I took care of you all these years. Not Kuroo. _

_**Mom** I’ve also gone through your computer. That will also be going. _

_**Mom** It’s no wonder you’re a corrupted little whore. The amount of gay pornography on your laptop is disgusting. If I EVER find you doing ANYTHING with another boy I will never call you my son again._

_**Dad** where are you? Kenma please answer_

_**Mom** Answer me or get your ass home right this instant. _

Kenma slowly tapped out a reply to his mother, his hands trembling. He suddenly felt like he was being engulfed in absolute terror at the thought of his mom selling his things; going through his computer; finding his porn. He was going to vomit.

                “I have to go home,” Kenma said quietly, looking at the ripped hole in Kuroo’s jeans.

                “Huh? Why?” Kuroo asked, looking up from his own phone.

                Kenma clenched and released his fist slowly, scratching at the cuff of his sweater. He could tell Kuroo the truth. Kuroo knew. He would help Kenma; he would try to defend him. The only problem was—now his mom thought that Kenma was gay and she already hated Kuroo.

                “It’s nothing. Just my dad. He’s worried about me,” Kenma lied.

                “Oh, well, what about your mom? Is she going to be home?”

                Kenma shook his head. His stomach was doing flips. The more time he wasted talking about this, the chances of his belongings being tossed out a window increased. His mouth had gone dry and it was nearly impossible to swallow.

                Kuroo studied Kenma with eyes that _knew_ Kenma was lying, but he leaned forward and told the driver Kenma’s address, asking him to take him there after he was dropped off at the grocery store.

* * *

                Kenma barely got through the door before his mom came around the corner and snatched his wrist, dragging him into the house. His phone flew out of his hand as his mom yanked him forward, bouncing off the wall and landing solidly on the hardwood floor.

                “My phone—”

                “Forget about your fucking phone!” his mom interrupted. “That’s all you do all day! Your god damn phone and games! You have no manners or respect for anything!”

                Kenma stumbled over his feet as his mother jerked him into the kitchen, her nails digging into his wrist. He swallowed thickly and avoided his sister’s cold gaze. He could hear his dad coming down the stairs, saying, “Hosumi, Hosumi, just calm down, okay?”

                “This is your fucking son, Kazu. He’s your problem just as much as he is mine. We haven’t known where he’s been for the last three days. That’s unacceptable.”

                “I thought we wanted him to go out into the world and be independent?” Kenma’s dad questioned, keeping his eyes trained on his fuming wife. “He’s growing up. It’s normal for him to start hanging out with his friends more than his family. He’s making a place for himself in the world.”

                Kenma was unable to stop his shaking. His stomach was churning and he wanted to break down, knowing his phone was likely very, very broken. He didn’t have the money to buy a new one. He had no control over his money. How he spent his money was up to his mom—and she never let him spend it, unless it was to buy her dinner.

                “I don’t care,” his mom snapped. “He has no right to drop contact from _me_. I’m his _mother_. I should know his whereabouts all the time. That’s my _job_. How can I do my job if he doesn’t listen?”

                “I was just with Kuroo; I’m always just with Kuroo,” Kenma said, trying to diffuse the situation slightly.

                “Oh, my god!” his mom suddenly spun on him. “It’s always Kuroo this, Kuroo that! That boy is a bad influence!”

                Hana crossed her arms and commented, “I bet it was Kuroo that introduced you to gay sex, wasn’t it, Kenma?”

                “You, shut the fuck up, this doesn’t involve you, Hana!”

                Hana flinched, but quickly regained her cool exterior.

                “The gay porn, the violent video games, the shows that encourage rebellion—it’s all a bad influence and that’s why I am cancelling both of your phone contracts, I will be getting rid of your television, and your games, Kenma. I’m taking your laptops and phones. The both of you. I will _not_ have this sort of harmful behaviour in my household.”

                “Mom—” Hana protested.

                “Please, don’t—” Kenma weakly begged.

                “Hosumi, let’s not make any rash descisions—” their dad started.

                “I don’t want to hear it! Not from any of you!” their mom shouted, clenching her fists. “This is my house and I won’t let any of you speak to me like this! Hana, Kenma, I want you to bring all your electronics down here in five minutes or I’m taking away _all_ of your privileges!”

                The two quickly scrambled to the staircase and as Hana pushed in front of Kenma, she quietly said under her breath, “This is all your fucking fault. Do something right for once, maybe? You can start off by fucking leaving.”

                Kenma couldn’t breathe.

                Six minutes later, there were 2 laptops, 2 cellphones, a PSP, 3 DS’s, and an entire box full of games sitting on the kitchen table. Hana was scowling furiously, her eyes glossy with tears, and Kenma was seconds away from a panic attack.

                “I want both of you to go to your room for the rest of the day. Neither of you are to come out for lunch or supper. You stay there and think about your actions today. Good for nothing, useless kids.”

                Kenma pushed a fist to his mouth, biting down on his index finger as their mother roughly tossed their devices into a bin. He could feel vomit rising in his throat. He now had no way to contact Kuroo; he had no way to get out of the house. Suddenly, reality was closing in on him and crushing his chest. He couldn’t get away. He was trapped in his house. He was stuck beneath his mother’s heel.

                “Kenma…” his father said. “Hosumi, stop this. This isn’t acceptable.”

                “I’m not asking for your opinion,” his mom snapped. She clenched her hands against the edges of the table. “Hana, go to your room. Right now!”

                Kenma was gasping for breath behind his fist as Hana scrambled from their mother’s fury, rushing up the stairs.

                “Kenma, you’re okay, it’s okay,” his dad soothed. “Hosumi, you know that you’re just making this worse. We need to _talk_ about this. Kids these days depend on their phones—for good reason sometimes. Hana loves her music and the constant connection to the world around her is what keeps her running.”

                “I am their mother!” Hosumi screamed. “I’m their mother and I will not be treated like this!”

                Kenma flinched as she smashed one of the DS’ on the floor. It was times like this when Kenma would text Kuroo to pick him up and get him out of the house before his mother’s anger turned towards _him_.

                But his phone was now broken and shattered on the entryway floor.

* * *

                Kenma didn’t waste any time. While Hana stormed off to their room, he went straight to the window at the end of the hall and pried it open. His parents were having a shouting match downstairs and Kenma was genuinely scared he was going to fall off the roof due to the quickly oncoming panic attack.

                As long as he could hold it back until he got _away_ , he would be fine. He had to be fine.

                Kenma jumped off the roof, landing with a solid thud on the grass below. He’d narrowly missed his mom’s cement bird bath. He was in the back yard, just outside the kitchen window where his parents were fighting. Before they could see him, he ran to the gate and slipped out.

                Overhead, the sky was grey and the air smelled of electricity. The houses he passed were lit up with warmth and no one was concerned about the trembling boy walking down the pavement, his hair amuck and tears choking him out.

                As Kenma walked, he knew that he would not be welcome back home. His mom would cut off the last string and close the door. She would sell all of his stuff. She would transfer his money into her own back account. His sister would claim the room as hers alone and within a week, they would all forget he ever existed.

                Kenma had nothing of value.

                He _was_ nothing of value.

                It began to rain.

* * *

                Kenma was shivering from the rain when Daichi opened the apartment door. For a few seconds, he just stared at Kenma, dripping and gasping breaths. And then;

                “I- I think I’m hav-having a panic attack,” Kenma stuttered. He didn’t _think_ he was, he knew he was and he’d been trying to keep it toned down since he decided not to go to Kuroo’s. Now, standing on Suga and Daichi’s doorstep, he couldn’t _breathe_.

                “Come- Come in, come in,” Daichi said, blinking with surprise. He bundled Kenma into the room and immediately, Kenma sobbed, nearly tripping. Daichi helped him into a kitchen chair.

                “Don’t tell Kuroo, don’t tell him, please,” Kenma said. His breathing staggered. “Don’t tell him.”

                Daichi left and promptly returned with a towel, wrapping Kenma tightly in it and then used another to dry his hair. “I won’t tell anyone anything that you don’t want me to. But you need to tell _me_ what happened; what’s wrong? I don’t think you just went for a stroll in the rain and decided to drop in.”

                Kenma began to cry harder, requiring Daichi to hold him upright.

                “She took everything,” he croaked. “She took all my games and she’s going to take all of my money. I can’t go back home. I can’t go back home! I have nothing, Daichi!” A wrenching cry came from him and Daichi firmly wrapped his arms around his shaking shoulders, holding him flush against his chest.

                “Shh, sh,” Daichi said, rubbing Kenma’s back. “You can stay here for the time being. I’ll give you my old phone and my laptop is free for you to use whenever you want. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

                “She took everything I had, Daichi,” Kenma whimpered. “I don’t have any money, I have nowhere to live, no job, no phone, no clothes—nothing! I- I- I just want to die. It would be better if I’d kill myself. I’m worthless. I’m worthless. I’m worthless.”

                “No, you’re not; you’re an important person to a lot of us. What your mom conditioned you to believe is wrong. You aren’t worthless at all, Kozume.”

                “She flushed my pills. She flushed my pills! I don’t have any refills,” Kenma cried.

                Daichi took a few deep breaths, hoping Kenma would follow. “Do you know the name of your doctor? Or, if you want, I can make you an appointment with mine and Suga’s doctor. We’ll start with getting you your medication and go from there. Or, even smaller steps. Tonight, we’ll just get you set up in the spare room. I’m sure you could borrow Suga’s clothes. Have a hot shower, put some pyjamas on, and then I’ll start dinner. It’s going to be okay. It’s not the end of the world.”

                Kenma shivered, but he began to quiet down, almost melding into Daichi’s body. The cold rain had sunk deep into his bones.


	8. The Chubby Kid in the Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #2... We Have It All by Pim Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sawamura Daichi  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- Reference to eating disorders  
> \- Reference to self harm  
> \- Minor sexual harassment  
> \- 2457 words

**Collection 2**

 

The wind was cold and biting, freezing Daichi’s fingers as he tried to steadily bring the cigarette to his lips. Yaku stood beside him, his shoulders hunched and his body shivering. Neither of them spoke, puffing smoke in silence. It was the ass-crack of dawn and the sun was turning the sky a dusty grey. The creaking and clanging from inside the factory sliced through the untouched morning peace.

                Yaku dropped his cigarette and smudged it under his boot, rubbing his blue hands together. He sniffled, breaking the silence by asking, “How’s Kenma doing?”

                “Okay, I guess. He’s been pretty down and stays in bed all day,” Daichi said, shrugging. He dropped his cigarette as well. “Suga’s taking him to get a refill on his pills today, so I’m hoping once he gets those back in his system we’ll be able to get him on his feet again.”

                “And Kuroo? Does he know Kenma’s at your place?”

                “I told him yesterday. He’s worried, and Kenma refuses to talk to him,” Daichi told Yaku. He blew into his cupped hands and turned to the door, pulling it open and going back into the much too warm factory. Voices shouted over the noise.

                The two of them put gloves on their hands and masks over their mouths.

                “Oi! Get packing you two! I’ve gotten nothing done all morning because you two keep dicking about!” Tamako shouted, leaning against a railing. She glared down at them.

                Daichi waved a hand dismissively and slid a few packaged boxes down the line. Yaku was beside him, and began pouring packing peanuts into a box and then carefully placing the product inside. Once he was done, Daichi taped it and slapped a stamp on the top. Another guy would take the boxes and stick them onto Tamako’s trailer, where she would drive it out to the docks to be loaded.

                And for the next two and a half hours, that’s what Daichi did. The same repeated motions, over and over again. He felt like he was working in a void, the sun still below the horizon, people still asleep all over the city.

                Daichi clocked out of work at 7am and got to the gym at 7:45. There were a few people there, but for the most part it was quiet. He started off with a light jog on the treadmill, staring out the window that showed the pool area. There was only one girl making laps. Daichi wasn’t a big swimmer, but it always seemed like a good way to work out everything at once.

                Despite being at the gym every morning, he never reached his goal. He always looked in the mirror and saw that chubby kid from his primary school days. He’d lost that fat by the time high school came around, but it always came back _so easily_. He had to spend his days eating protein and working out just to keep the build he currently had. One slip-up and he’d put on fifty pounds.

                But, that used his entire mental stamina, leaving none for college work or his job, or anything else, really—Suga included. He’d gotten crankier in his years, but he’d also gotten stronger and more attractive. His skin was better. He was eating better, and sleeping better. Daichi was overall a better version of himself when he wasn’t overweight and causing earthquakes everywhere he went.

                A little bit after nine, Daichi left the gym. He stopped by the grocery store to get a few ingredients for breakfast, and then returned home to get Kenma and Suga out of bed.

                Daichi pushed open the door to the spare room, peering into the darkness. Kenma was amid a mass of blankets on the rickety single bed. Quietly, Daichi crept in and knelt down, shaking Kenma lightly.

                “Hey… Kenma… it’s probably time to get up,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to get breakfast started right away, so why don’t you hop in the shower quick and it’ll be ready when you get out?”

                “Mm,” Kenma moaned in protest, rolling over. “No.”

                Daichi heaved a sigh, biting his tongue. “You need to shower and get out of bed today, okay? You’re going to get rotten pretty soon.”

                There was silence and then Kenma very quietly whispered, “I already am.”

                “No, you’re not,” Daichi sighed again, standing. He pulled the blankets back and tossed them to the floor. Kenma was a ball of spindly limbs, wearing nothing but some underwear and an oversized shirt of Suga’s. “You’re only going to feel worse and worse if you stay in bed, without your pills. Get up, get dressed, and Suga’s taking you for a refill today.”

                Kenma didn’t move, but did quietly say, “Okay.” Daichi left it at that, counting on Kenma to actually get himself out of bed, and went to his and Suga’s room.

                Nothing had moved since Daichi left at 3am. Suga was still taking up the majority of the bed; there was still a cloth in a bucket of water (as Suga had been suffering night-sweats lately), and a scattered pile of textbooks, notebooks, and pens on the floor. Suga was still completely out of it, his body at long last getting the sleep that it needed. Daichi felt a little bad waking him up.

                He climbed back into bed and looked at his boyfriend.

                “Suga,” he said gently, sliding one hand over the round of his thin hip. “It’s about time to wake up. You’re taking Kenma to the doctor at eleven, remember? I’m going to make some breakfast.”

                Suga cracked his eyes open and studied Daichi. He sighed lightly and croaked out, “What’s my appetizer?”

                Daichi grabbed the hand that was pawing at his crotch. “Not this morning. Not with Kenma here.”

                “We’ll just have to be quiet,” Suga said. He sat up and tugged at the waist of Daichi’s khaki’s again. “It’s been so long. Let me just suck you off quick. Please?”

                “ _No_ , Suga,” Daichi pressed. “I’m not in the mood right now. I love you, but not right now.”

                Suga’s face fell and he stiffened. “Why not?”

                “Because I’ve been awake since three this morning and I don’t feel like getting a blowjob. What don’t you understand about this? I’m saying no. Go get ready and then come out for breakfast, okay?” Daichi said, forcefully pushing Suga’s hands away and getting off the bed. Just as he was closing the door, he heard Suga slam shut his bedside drawer and flick on a vibrator.

                Back in the kitchen, Daichi began pulling out the ingredients for breakfast. Asahi had shown him the recipe for savory oatmeal with an egg, and Daichi thought it was actually pretty good. As he prepared breakfast, he could hear the sound of the shower running from one end of the apartment, and Suga moaning from the other.

                Just as he was putting the oatmeal into bowls, Kenma shuffled into the kitchen.

                “Hey, it’s good to see you up,” Daichi said. He slid a bowl onto the table for him. “Do you feel any better now that you’re squeaky clean?”

                “No,” Kenma said quietly, poking the egg yolk with a fork.

                Daichi chewed at the inside of his cheek and sat down at the table across from him. He could no longer hear Suga, so he could only hope that he would come out and eat before his food got cold.

                “I’m going to see Kuroo today,” Daichi said slowly, staring at his oatmeal. “And after you and Suga are done at the doctor, he has to get to work, so he’s going to drop you off with Kuroo and I. Maybe he can take you home; if you want, obviously.”

                Kenma was silent, refusing to make eye contact.

                “Do I have a choice?”

                Daichi thought about it, and then apologetically said, “Not really. But we can leave as soon as you two get there. Or you can go with Kuroo. I know you probably don’t feel up to hanging out in public right now, so… Whatever makes you most comfortable, okay?”

                Kenma sighed heavily and placed a small spoonful of porridge in his mouth, chewing it slowly and thoroughly. Suga came up behind him and gave his damp hair a ruffle before sitting down in front of the other untouched bowl. Kenma pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, closing his eyes as if he was about to be sick. 

                “You don’t have to eat all of it if it’s too much,” Daichi said, sharing a look with Suga.

                Suga nodded. “Just try to eat as much as you can, yeah?”

                Kenma’s abhorrence towards food wasn’t a secret and never _had_ been, as far as anybody knew. His dislike of food and _weight_ just came with him as a person. Daichi knew Kenma’s way of achieving a desirable figure wasn’t totally acceptable, but Daichi also knew how disgusting being the biggest person in the room felt.

                He didn’t want to encourage Kenma in starving himself, but he also didn’t want to exactly stop him from being comfortable in his own skin. The difference between Kenma and him was that Kenma had never been large.

                Daichi was the chubby kid; the kid that had to tug his shirt over his belly constantly because it kept peeking out; the kid that could never quite fit his fingers around his wrist. Daichi _was_ the chubby kid at the back of the classroom, trying to keep a smile on his face when he _knew_ that people were consciously aware that he was the biggest one in the class.

                He lost that weight in his last two years of high school and he would kill himself if he ever gained it back.

* * *

                Kuroo was already sitting at a table when Daichi walked through the door, bell tinkling above his head. Hanamaki, behind the counter, lifted a hand in greeting before turning to ring someone through.

                “Alright?” Daichi asked, sliding into a chair across from Kuroo.

                “Alright,” Kuroo replied. “How is he? Is he okay?”

                Daichi made a so-so motion with his hand. “He’s not bad. He got up and had a shower this morning, and he’s at the doctor’s with Suga right now to get a prescription for some more pills. He doesn’t seem too keen to see _you_ though. Why’s that?”

                “How should I fucking know? God, I was so fucking worried. I thought he’d jumped off a cliff and someone would find his bloated corpse along the shore somewhere.” Kuroo took a long sip from his _Dr. Pepper_. “Has he hurt himself? Has he been eating?”

                “Not that I know of; and yeah, a little bit,” Daichi responded. A girl he didn’t recognize came up to take his order before whisking away again. As she walked away, a man sitting at another table slapped her ass. Daichi turned back to Kuroo. “He ate most of the oatmeal I gave him this morning.”

                Kuroo bobbed his head, mind somewhere else all of the sudden. His leg was bouncing wildly beneath the table, slightly rattling his drink. From inside the kitchen came the crash of a plate shattering. Daichi’s stomach rumbled and clenched painfully.

                “Has Kenma’s mom always been like that? So controlling, I mean…” Daichi asked, turning his attention back to Kuroo.

                Kuroo shrugged. “I guess so. She was always a helicopter parent, but I think after a rough patch in her marriage she just got even worse. She’s a fucking cunt, don’t get me wrong, but I think she’s just trying to keep her family together, you know? She’s more desperate than anything.”

                Daichi hummed. The waitress came back with his chicken wrap and lemon water, and kept a wide berth around the table of crude men as she disappeared back into the kitchen. One of them belched loudly.

                By the time Suga and Kenma came through the doors, Daichi was done his wrap. He waved to the two, beckoning them over. Before Suga could sit next to him, Kenma slid into the seat beside Daichi, keeping his gaze down.

                “Everything good?” Kuroo questioned, concerned.

                Kenma nodded, and Daichi noticed his fingers tighten around the little baggy from the pharmacy, holding his pills. He looked back up, eyeing Suga—who was staring at the table of men with his chin in his hand.

                “Do they come here regularly?” Daichi asked, referring to the men. The silence was killing him.

                “Not really, but often enough for us all to know their names and numbers,” Suga mumbled. He closed his eyes and sighed, turning his head to his rested in his hand rather than his chin. Silence once again lapsed over the table. Daichi felt painfully self-conscious all the sudden.

                Kuroo was still watching Kenma with sharp eyes. Daichi looked down at Kenma’s lap a second time; suddenly worried that maybe he _had_ been hurting himself without Daichi knowing. He knew that sometimes Kenma cut, but for some reason he hadn’t even thought about it with him crashing at the apartment.

                But Kenma was wearing a jacket, so Daichi couldn’t tell if he had been hurting himself or not.

                “Are you going to go home with Kuroo?” wondered Daichi.

                Kenma frowned. “Um, can I have some water?” he asked quietly, ignoring the question.

                Kuroo flagged down the waitress, ordering a glass of water for Kenma. She came back with it in a few seconds, and after taking a few sips through the straw, Kenma looked up and said, “I’ll go with Kuroo.”

                “Alright, that’ll be good. You have some things over there, right? Like, clothes and stuff?” Suga asked.

                Kenma nodded. He chugged down some more of his water, still not making eye contact. Daichi tried to empathize what how Kenma would be feeling after so many days without his pills. Somehow, it wasn’t too hard.

                Suga checked his phone and pushed away from the table. “Well, I’m off. I’ll catch a ride home, Dai. I’m not off until late. See you, guys.”

                Daichi smiled weakly at him, waving as he went behind the counter and disappeared into the staff room.

                “Do you want to head home, kitten?” Kuroo asked, not oblivious to the waves of anxiety rolling off of Kenma. Kenma nodded, and Kuroo pushed away from the table as well. “We’re going to head out too, Daichi. Thanks, for taking care of Kenma. I mean it. And you—“ he pointed at Kenma, “—never drop off the grid like that again, you hear me? You gave me a constant heart attack for nearly a week.”

                Kenma looked away and Daichi chuckled, waving them away as well, leaving him at the table by himself.


	9. Sudden Cardiac Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #2... We Have It All by Pim Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Akaashi Keiji  
> \- Eating Disorder (Bulimia)  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- Mentions of Rape and CSA  
> \- 2393 Words

**Collection 2**

 

“How are you doing these days, baby boy? You’ve been eating well? You’ve always been a little bit of a glutton, so I’m sure you’re eating just fine,” his mom said, laughing lightly. Her voice should have soothed him, but nothing seemed to soothe him—nothing had for months.

            Akaashi, sitting in a stall in the bathroom at work, with his feet propped up on the broken door to keep it shut, replied, “I’m fine. Have- Have you gotten any days off of work? I remember you saying that they were quarantined at the old folk’s home.”

            He wrapped his arms around his bent knees, grimacing at a sharp pain in his chest. His heart felt like it was beating a million miles an hour.

            “Oh, god, no,” his mom answered. “I’ve been working double shifts ‘cause now all the staff are sick too. And on top of that, your aunt is vomiting everywhere too. So, fingers crossed that I don’t catch whatever she’s got. There’s definitely a virus going around.”

            Akaashi was silent, anxiously listening in case anyone came into the washroom. His mom on the other end was keenly aware of his smothering pause.

            “Is everything okay with you?” she asked gently, her tone getting serious.

            He thought about the night his mom walked in on her husband pulling out of her son, blood and cum dribbling out of his torn ass. She had seen her only child at his very worst. There was nothing that Akaashi should be ashamed to tell her at this point. Surely, he could tell her about being raped at the party. She would know what to do. She always _did_.

            “No, I’m just tired,” Akaashi said, closing his eyes.

            But Akaashi wasn’t going to tell her. He wanted to just forget about it.

            “Are you sure? ‘Cause if there’s ever anything—”

            “Akaashi? Are you in here?”

            Akaashi’s feet slammed to the floor, allowing the stall door to swing open. Kindaichi came around and looked at him.

            “I’ve gotta go. I love you,” Akaashi said, hanging up quickly.

            Kindaichi frowned and asked, “Are you feeling okay? You look pretty rough… Maybe you should go home?”

            Akaashi looked at his reflection in the black screen of his phone. “Do I really look that bad?”

            “No!” Kindaichi exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “No, I don’t think it’s possible for you to look _bad_. You just don’t look up to par is all. You should go home, get some rest.”

            Akaashi put his head in his hands and mumbled, “Maybe I should…” He tried to remember the last time he’d eaten something without throwing it up. He tried to remember the last time he’d had something to drink. He tried to remember the last time he’d slept more than three hours. He couldn’t.

            His lungs threatened to collapse again, making him tense in pain.

            “I’ll go get you some water and let Hanamaki know that you’re going to go home. Do you want me to call Bokuto for you? Or someone else to come and get you?” Kindaichi asked.

            “Water would be nice,” Akaashi croaked. His throat was burning with the desire to vomit. “And I’ll call Kuroo. Bokuto’s probably in class right now.”

            Kindaichi left, the door creaking closed. Akaashi pulled out his contacts and tapped Kuroo’s name, putting it on speaker phone, listening to it ring. Just before Kuroo answered, another knife thrust itself between Akaashi’s ribs and he dropped down in front of the toilet, retching. His phone fell to the ground beside him.

            “Keiji? Hello?”

            Akaashi coughed out a glob of blood and stomach acid, tears welling in his eyes.

            “Kuroo, please come pick me up from work,” he said quietly. “Please, please, please, I think I’m dying.” A hot fist clenched his heart, bringing him to the grimy bathroom floor in pain. He pressed his cheek against the cold tile, pulling the phone next to his mouth and putting it on speaker.

            “Akaashi?” Kuroo’s voice asked again, louder this time. “You there?”

            Akaashi started crying. “ _Please_ , _come get me_ ,” he said. “I’m dying, Kuroo. I think I’m dying. I—”

            Just as the fist tore his heart right out of his chest, the bathroom door opened and Kindaichi dropped down to his knees, the water splashing onto the floor. And then Akaashi disappeared.

* * *

            “Squeeze Kuroo’s hand if you can hear me, Keiji.”

            Akaashi faded out again. His body felt like it was combusting. It felt like his entire torso was being ripped in half.

            “Keiji, can you hear me?”

            He painfully gave the hand in his grasp a weak squeeze. Akaashi opened his eyes and saw Hanamaki’s peach-coloured hair above him, illuminated by blinding lights, giving him a glowing halo. Akaashi closed his eyes.

            “No, no, no, try to stay focused on my face,” Hanamaki’s voice warbled. “Squeeze your hand if you know where you are. Stay with me, buddy…”

            Akaashi again gave a weak grip. _He was at work. He was… working. Was he at work?_

Hanamaki was running his hand in circles over Akaashi’s bare chest. Someone else wiped his face with a rough paper towel. Had he vomited on himself?

            “Keiji,” Hanamaki said firmly again, pulling Akaashi’s wavering consciousness back to his pierced face. “Do you recognize me? Try and just focus on my questions, okay?”

            Akaashi squeezed again. _Of course he knew who he was. Hanamaki. Hanamaki. Makki. He worked with Akaashi. Of course._

Fire coursed up Akaashi’s throat and suddenly he was tilted onto his side, puke dribbling from his mouth. But then he disappeared again.

* * *

            A steady beeping and a constant buzzing; something large wrapped around him and something small clipped on his finger; a pinch on his arm. Akaashi opened his bleary eyes slowly, staring up at the dark void above him.

            Bokuto was curled beside him, lanky limbs folded onto the small hospital bed. He had one hand in Akaashi’s hair, and the other one splayed out over his chest, his thumb running back and forth soothingly. His usually spiked hair was unusually flat.

            “Bokuto,” Akaashi wheezed almost silently. Nothing more than a breath. He swallowed down the sand in his throat and tried again. “Bo… B- Koutarou… Kou…”

            He scowled and flicked the clamp on his index finger to the floor and a small bell trilled. Immediately, Bokuto was awake.

            “Oh, my god,” Bokuto said, putting a hand to Akaashi’s face. “I thought you were going to die, you fucking idiot. I love you so fucking much. Never do that again, god dammit.”

            A nurse came in, turned off the bell, and checked Akaashi’s vitals. Once she left, Bokuto put his head down on Akaashi’s chest, listening to his heart. Akaashi lifted a hand weakly and knotted his fingers into Bokuto’s hair. Boktuo had an iron grip on him.

            “I thought you were going to fucking die,” Bokuto said quietly. “You _did_ die. They had to start your heart up again three times. _Fuck_ , Keiji, I thought you were better. Why didn’t you tell me you were bad again? Or _anyone_?”

            “I don’t know,” Akaashi whispered. In truth, he’d never _been_ better. He was just tired of people worrying about him so he preteneded he was okay. But he didn’t know that he was going to cause this much trouble and hurt Bokuto so badly in the process.

            “I was better,” Akaashi lied. “But then that night at the party happened and… and it brought back all of the memories of my step-dad. I thought I was over what he did. I guess not.”

            Bokuto was quiet.

            “You…” he started, before getting choked up. He cleared his throat. “You’ll be okay. You don’t have to rush yourself with ‘getting over it’. With what he did to you… and then the twins… You’re strong, ‘kaashi. And when you’re good and ready, you won’t let them keep you from getting better. Until you can do that on your own though… Maybe we can find you a therapist. You can’t keep starving yourself, babe. I- I can’t lose you. These were the most terrifying thirty-six hours of my life. Never again.”

            Akaashi didn’t respond. He just stared blankly at the ceiling and wondered how he had fucked up so badly.

* * *

            Four days after his collapse at work, Akaashi was released from the hospital with very strict instructions to keep a log of what he was eating and keeping down, so that he could show his food log to his therapist and dieticians every Tuesday and Friday. He was given a three-month prescription with 2 refills of antidepressants and antipsychotics—even though he swore he didn’t need them. He wasn’t _psychotic_. Maybe a little bit depressed, but not so depressed he needed _drugs_ for it. And anyways, who wasn’t depressed these days?

            But the doctors claimed they would help with the effects of his sexual abuse as a child, which in turn would hopefully fix his so-called eating disorder. He wasn’t psychotic, he wasn’t depressed, he wasn’t bulimic, and he sure as hell didn’t need _help_.

            And despite Bokuto’s persistence, there was absolutely no way he was getting the police involved in him being raped at the party. No one needed to know about that. There was nothing to be done. It happened, it was over, it would be forgotten about.

            Akaashi ended up staying at Kuroo and Bokuto’s apartment so that they could keep an eye on him. Akaashi didn’t care. What were they going to do anyways?

            He let Bokuto enter the apartment first, carrying his luggage for him. Akaashi stood out on the walkway, the wind whipping around him. Dried leaves were spinning in tiny tornados in front of other apartment doors. Akaashi glanced behind himself off the balcony. There was a lone shoe on the sidewalk below, dirtier than dirt itself.

            “Are you going to come inside?” Bokuto asked.

            Akaashi stepped across the threshold and Bokuto closed the door behind him. He was only in the apartment for ten seconds when Kuroo slammed into him and gave him a bear hug. Akaashi grunted lightly, stumbling slightly. Bokuto put a hand on his back to steady him.

            “Holy shit,” Kuroo said, holding the back of Akaashi’s head, gripping his hair tightly. “You scared me to death when you called me. How are you feeling? Do you need to sit down? I’ll get you some water. I think we have some crackers if you want.”

            Kuroo let go and disappeared just as quickly as he came. Akaashi grasped his chest, terrified his heart was going to give out any minute. It seemed to be working double time since he was discharged.

            “I need to sit down,” he said breathlessly, placing a hand on the wall as he stumbled to the living room. Bokuto trailed after him, holding out his hands in case Akaashi collapsed. Slowly, Akaashi lowered himself to the second-hand, thrifted sofa, gulping in air. Bokuto knelt down quietly in front of him, watching him carefully.

            Kuroo came in with a glass of water and a row of crackers, putting them on the coffee table. Bokuto picked up the water and held it out of Akaashi, who took it with a loud sigh. He didn’t take a sip though, just sat on the sofa catching his breath and trying to hold himself back from having a panic attack.

            Kuroo sat down beside Bokuto and crossed his legs, checking his phone awkwardly.

            “Why don’t you stretch out your legs?” Bokuto suggested, moving the junk on the other half of the couch. Akaashi’s hand tilted and the water in the glass dribbled out slightly before Bokuto steadied it, putting it down again. “Lean back,” Bokuto said quietly, helping Akaashi into a reclined position, pressing a hand to his boyfriend’s chest anxiously.

            “Is Kenma here?” Akaashi asked, pushing Bokuto’s hand away, irritated.

            Kuroo looked up. “Yeah, he’s in my room. If he’s not napping, I can see if he wants to say hi.”

            Akaashi nodded, his breathing already evening itself out as he sunk into the worn couch. He quietly asked for the water again and slowly sipped at it while Bokuto hovered above him. Kuroo’s deep voice could just barely be heard from down the hall as he talked to Kenma.

            “Do you feel okay? Do you think we should go back to the hospital?” Bokuto asked worriedly.

            “I’m fine,” Akaashi said. “It was just a long trip back. I’m just tired is all. I’m fine.”

            “Okay, okay, but if anything feels even the slightest bit off you tell me. What’s your heartrate at? Your phone… Let’s test it on your phone…”

            Akaashi moaned. “Not right now, Bo.”

            Kenma shuffled into sight, Kuroo behind him with his hands resting on Kenma’s shoulders.

            “Hi,” Kenma said, perching himself hesitantly on the other end of the sofa, near Akaashi’s feet. “Are you okay now?”

            “Yes,” Akaashi said, exhaustion sweeping over him. “How about you?”

            Kenma wiggled his toes and his mouth contorted in a way that only suggested that he was viciously tearing at the skin inside his mouth. “You’re the one that just got out of the hospital. I’m fine.”

            And that was the extent of their conversation. Akaashi was too tired and Kenma was never big on conversation. Bokuto could tell that Akaashi was just barely hanging onto consciousness and asked, “Do you want me to take you to my room and you can nap there?”

            Akaashi very slightly nodded in silence and Bokuto helped him off the sofa, lifting him into his arms with a grunt. Kuroo was brushing Kenma hair with his hands, collecting it all into a short sprout on the top of his head as Bokuto took Akaashi to his room. Akaashi was already passed out before he was in bed.


	10. The Devil's Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection #2... We Have It All by Pim Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sugawara Koushi  
> \- Vague Mentions of Rape  
> \- Minor Reference to Masturbation  
> \- Vulgar Language  
> \- Hypersexual Thoughts/Feelings/Actions  
> \- 2303 Words

**Collection 2**

 

Suga slept until 9:30, when he woke up and trudged to the shower. Daichi was home already and still asleep. He smelled of weed and nicotine. On his side of the table was an empty bag of potato chips. Suga knew Daichi was going to be grumpy when he woke up. _If_ he woke up today.

            As usual, Suga spent too long in the shower, feeling his body, and fingering himself until he came. Out of the shower, he ran some smoothing product through his hair and brushed his teeth. As he cooled down from his steamy shower, he pulled out his phone and texted Akaashi.

            **_Suga_** _how are you feeling? up to visitors yet?_

_**Suga** I’m going out to run some errands later if you want some company I can swing by_

He went to the kitchen and started making a cup of coffee, waiting patiently for the response from Akaashi. His friend had been out of the hospital for a few days now, and Suga had kept in contact with him. From what it sounded like, Akaashi wasn’t doing too great. Daichi said that Bokuto was worried about him—more than ever.

            **_Akaashi_** _ya u can come by if you want_

Suga stared blankly at the stove as the coffee pot sputtered and growled. There were loud machines outside, beeping and clanging and screeching, sometimes interrupted by the sound of a jack hammer or a drill. For the first time in what felt like days it was sunny outside, not windy or gloomy.

            _BeepBeepBeep!_

Suga pulled out the pot and sloshed the steaming coffee into a mug. He was smacked in the face of the strong scent of freshly brewed caffeine. He poured in some cream (too much by most people’s standards) as well as a small sprinkling of sugar.

            It tasted absolutely disgusting.

            “What the fuck,” Suga grumbled, glaring at his mug. Some days he could make a god damn great cup of coffee, but other’s, it tasted like boiled water and dirt. He poured it down the sink and sighed, deciding to walk down the street, and just ordering some coffee from the Starbucks that Oikawa worked at.

            So Suga threw on a light jacket, jammed his feet into a pair of Daichi’s Timberlands, and started tromping down the stairs of their apartment building. He passed a sad, deserted bouquet of flowers on his way down and wondered whose heart had been recently broken.

            Outside, the sun was brighter than Suga originally anticipated and his eyes instantly ached, making him squint and lift a hand. One of the construction workers across the street catcalled a lady walking by, whistling loudly. Suga ignored the exchange and kept walking, wanting nothing more than coffee and death. His head was beginning to pound from the sun as he walked down the street, making him grumpier with every step he took.

            Suga pushed through the Starbucks entrance, taking a heavy inhale as he entered, the swirling smell of properly brewed coffee easing his headache instantly. He looked up and scanned the employees, looking for Oikawa. Sure enough, there he was, with a fake smile plastered on his face and two hickeys on his neck.

            “Hey,” Suga said, approaching the counter. “You look awful. Stay up too long rolling around with Iwaizumi last night?”

            “Just tell me what you want,” Oikawa said, giving Suga a look. “I didn’t get out of work at the theatre until almost two in the morning last night. I high key wish I was dead right now.”

            “Me and you both. I’ll have a large coffee.”

            “Venti, but sure,” Oikawa corrected, constantly bothered by Suga’s inability to remember how Starbucks sizes worked. “Oh, hey, have you heard from Akaashi lately? I heard what happened from Makki. That’s crazy.”

            Suga leaned against the counter as Oikawa got his drink. “I haven’t really heard much on how he’s been doing, but I know he’s, like, super embarrassed about it. Bokuto told Daichi that he doesn’t want to see anyone, and he just stays in bed most days. But, I mean, fair enough. He was technically dead for, what? Thirty minutes total or something? I’m going to see him later today though.”

            Oikawa handed Suga his drink, and Suga in turn passed him a five-dollar bill.

            Before Suga turned away, Oikawa leaned forward and asked in a low voice, “Do you think it has to do with what happened at Noya’s party?”

            Suga shrugged. “Maybe, but Akaashi’s always struggled with bulimia—even though he denies it. It might have pushed him over the edge, I don’t know. I don’t know, Tooru. Life doesn’t really like to treat him with kindness.”

            “Oikawa! Stop chit-chatting and get back to work!”

            Oikawa silently mimed hanging himself and Suga said goodbye, letting him get back to work.

* * *

            He stopped by the post office and grabbed a handful of flyers and other useless junk after stopping at Starbucks. He continued on his walk throughout town, the sun blazing down on top of him. He had originally planned on taking an Uber on his errands, but now that he was out, walking down the sidewalks, he figured he might as well just keep on going.

            To the pharmacy to get some more cold medicine for himself; to the dollar store to buy some more sticky notes; to a bargain store to get a cheap pair of earbuds; and so forth. Wherever Suga went, whatever he bought, he would slip into a crinkly, reuseable grocery bag that he’d snagged from the pharmacy. They wouldn’t miss the $2.50 that he’d failed to pay.

            By the time Suga was finished his errands, he was sweating and panting from his trek out in the sun. He checked his phone for the time and if Daichi had texted him, asking where he’d gone. He hadn’t, so Suga didn’t worry about it. It was lunch time, and Suga was miles from home by now, so he figured he would drop into the Save-On-Foods that was across the street from where he was at the moment.

            Suga was blasted by cool air as soon as he walked in and welcomed it with a sigh. He headed walked around aimlessly for a little bit while his body temperature lowered, and then picked up a pre-made-pre-packaged sandwich and a bottle of water. At the register, he asked the girl if they sold cigarettes. No, she said, but the gas station just a few buildings down did. Suga thanked her and took his small lunch, making a stop at the gas station as his final errand.

            He sat on an advertising bench on a corner while he ate his sandwich and periodically took sips from his water. Cars were whipping by him, and people walked past with clear intent to not make eye contact. From where he was, it was about another twenty-minute walk to Bokuto and Kuroo’s apartment.

            _Ting!_

            **_Daichi_** _do u have condoms_

_**Suga** no I thought you did_

_**Suga** also who are you having sex with_

_**Daichi** no one but I just found the empty box in the kitchen_

_**Daichi** ur running errands right? get some if you have time_

_**Suga** oo do I see sex in the very near future?_

_**Daichi** idk only if you get condoms_

Suga frowned and tapped out a reply, already knowing what Daichi’s response would be.

            **_Suga_** _why do we need condoms tho_

_**Daichi** cuz you haven’t gotten checked for an sti lately _

Of course. Suga was always an STI risk. Suga was good about using condoms when he didn’t know if someone was safe or not, but Daichi didn’t seem to believe him. Either way, Suga was already horny for sex, so at the next drug store he passed, he stopped in and grabbed a pack of condoms.

            Finally, half an hour later, he made it Bokuto and Kuroo’s apartment.

            “Geez, Suga, did you walk all the way here?” Kuro asked as he opened the door.

            Suga, flushed in the cheeks and exhausted, nodded silently and pushed past Kuroo into the cool apartment. Sitting in front of the TV was Bokuto and Kenma, playing Mario Kart. Akaashi was sleeping on the sofa behind them.

            “Hey, Kenma; Bokuto,” Suga said as he entered. Both absently said hello back, too absorbed in the game. Suga dropped his bag on the floor and stood there for a moment, catching his breath.

            “Want some water?” Kuroo offered, raising an eyebrow.

            “Please,” Suga said, fanning his face. Kuroo brought him some water and picked up the cracker package in front of the couch, having a few of the saltines himself.

            After Suga had cooled down and gotten rid of the black spots dancing in his vision, he sat down on the recliner and looked over at Akaashi. He looked sickly, almost jaundiced, and his face was puffy. Not so noticeably so, but his cheeks held the roundness of a chipmunk or a baby—not at all like how it should have been normally.

            “Did he put on weight?” Suga asked quizzically, genuinely confused.

            “No, it’s something to do with… Making himself vomit all the time…” Bokuto responded distractedly. “Swollen salivary glands, doctors said,” he mumbled.

            Suga looked at Akaashi again, quietly saying, “Oh.” He turned his attention to Kenma, silently wondering if he’d been doing okay. He didn’t want to ask, knowing Kenma probably wouldn’t answer while in the middle of a game.

            Their round finished, with Kenma coming in first and Bokuto coming in third. Before starting the next round, Bokuto turned around and tapped Akaashi awake, telling him that Suga was there.

            “How have you been doing, Kenma?” Suga asked, now given the chance.

            “Fine,” Kenma said tersely, choosing the next arena in Mario Kart. He didn’t turn around to look at Suga.

            Suga looked over at Kuroo who just shrugged, but it was obvious that he knew what was up. Nonetheless, Suga let it go and looked over at the sluggish Akaashi, who had his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes roughly.

            “Leave me out of this round,” Bokuto told Kenma, giving him permission to start the game without him. Kenma sighed irritably, shifting his position on his beanbag, leaning away from Bokuto. Bokuto ignored it and just quietly watched Akaashi slowly wake up.

            “Hi, Suga,” he said, finally looking up.

            For a fraction of a second, Suga was thrown off by how awful Akaashi looked.

            “Hey, how are you doing?” Suga asked gently, suddenly feeling awkward.

            “Well… Better than I was five days ago,” Akaashi responded, making it very clear that he wasn’t doing great. Suga couldn’t blame him, and he didn’t expect him to be doing well, but seeing him in person was a lot more of a shock than he was anticipating.

            “You should stretch your legs. You’ve been sleeping for a while,” Bokuto said. He got to his feet and held his hands out, taking Akaashi’s bone thin fingers.

            Akaashi’s face flushed red and he pulled out of Bokuto’s grasp. “I can get up myself.”

            Bokuto stepped back, frowning doubtfully but letting Akaashi slowly and unsteadily get to his feet by himself. Suga got up as well, watching Akaashi carefully. Once he was steady, Suga suggested they pace up and down the length of the apartment balcony. Akaashi agreed and the two went outside into the heat.

            Akaashi walked along the railing, gripping it tightly with one hand.

            “I’ll probably come back to work soon,” Akaashi said. “Sorry about… you’re probably getting all my shifts.”

            “Oh, no, don’t worry about it. Take time getting better. You shouldn’t be back at work for another two weeks at least, to be frank. You can barely walk, Keiji. Take your time to heal,” Suga said. He looked over at Akaashi’s bloated cheeks.

            Suga chewed his lip and then asked, “Have you… Was it what happened at the party? Did you try to kill yourself?”

            “No, to both. I guess it was just five years of vomiting up everything that I ate that caused my heart to give.”

            Suga sucked in a breath of air and pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Akaashi and him passed it back and forth as they walked along the balcony. Neither of them spoke; they just sucked in the nicotine in silence. They didn’t finish the cigarette before Suga suggested they go back inside. Akaashi was breathing heavily and his face was as white as a sheet.

            They got inside and Akaashi went straight to the bathroom. Bokuto followed right on his heels and the other three pretended not to hear the sobbing sounds of retching and vomiting. Suga wondered if he shouldn’t have let Akaashi have the cigarette.

            “Has he been throwing up a lot since getting out of the hospital?” Suga wondered, concerned.

            “Yeah, but he hasn’t been making himself throw up. It’s the medication he’s on. It makes him really nauseous,” Kuroo said.

            “Well, that’s kind of counter-productive, don’t you think?”

            Kenma threw his controller to the floor and got up, leaving the living room suddenly. Suga rose an eyebrow and watched him disappear. A door slammed.

            “What about him? Is he okay?” Suga asked.

            Kuroo sighed and shrugged. “He’s been touchy since Akaashi was taken to hospital. I think it just spiked his anxiety and he’s been moody. He’ll be fine. It was just super scary for him. All of us, obviously, but Kenma took it hard.”

            “Oh,” Suga said flatly. “Well, it seems like you two have your hands full here, so I’ll get going. It was nice seeing you guys.”

            Suga left the apartment, running down the stairs to the pavement below and called the closest person he knew to where he was.

            “Hey, are you home? I really need to get fucked.”


End file.
